Chapter 23 Chapter 23 Trauma of the Heart: Retreat

When Carrie came home, she was again troubled by doubts and apprehensions. This was the result of want of resolution. She could not be sure that her promise was proper, or whether, having made it, she should keep it. Leaving H. After Stewart, she thought about the matter again and found many small problems that she hadn't thought of when the manager was enthusiastically persuading her. She realized that her situation was a bit awkward...on the one hand She let herself be thought of as a married woman, and on the other hand she promised to be married. She remembered the good things Drouet had done for her, and could not help feeling that she was doing something wrong by leaving him so quietly. Seems like. She is now secure, which is a matter of vital importance to a person who is more or less afraid of hard times. This consideration also raises some strange and absurd objections to her: "You don't know that What will be the consequences of things. The outside world is full of misfortune and distress. There are people who live by begging and beggars, and women with miserable fate. You never know what will happen to you. Don't forget that you didn't Those days when you ate. What you get now should be firmly grasped."

Strange to say, though she was drawn to Hurstwood, he failed to hold her intellectually firmly. She listened, smiled, admired, but in the end disagreed. It was his lack of passion, Lack of that glorious passion which can be so captivating, which melts dissenting assumptions into a tangle of unreasonable complexes, and temporarily destroys reason and the faculties of thought. Nearly everyone has Once upon a time there was such a brilliant passion. But it is often the characteristic of youth, and finally leads to the first successful marriage in life. Hurstwood is no longer young. It is hard to say that he has retained the fire of youth, though he still possesses a passion so intense that it is beyond reason. This passion can also arouse the admiration of women, which we have already seen in Carrie. We can see it. Maybe we can say that Carrie thought she was in love with him, but she wasn't. Women are often like this. It's because the desire to be loved, the desire to be loved, and the joy of being loved is something that everyone Women's tendency. One of the characteristics of women is the desire to be sheltered, enhanced and sympathetic. Coupled with women's rich emotions and natural emotionality, it is often difficult for them to refuse a man's courtship, so they think they are in love .

As soon as she got home she changed her clothes and tidied up the room herself. She and the maid were always at odds about the arrangement of the furniture. The young maid was always fond of putting a rocking-chair in a corner of the room, and Carrie always put The rocking chair was brought out again. So preoccupied today was she that she scarcely noticed that the chair had been misplaced again. She bustled about the room until Drouet came home at five o'clock. The salesman was flushed. .He looked excited and determined to find out the whole relationship between her and Hurstwood. However, he had been turning this question over and over in his mind all day. The problem was settled. He didn't foresee any serious consequences, but he hesitated how to speak. When he came in, Carrie was sitting in the rocking chair by the window, rocking the chair and looking out the window.

"Huh," she said naively, at the moment she was tired of thinking about things, and she couldn't help being surprised to see his hurried appearance and unconcealed excitement, "why are you in such a hurry?" Drouet hesitated. Now facing her face to face, he did not know what to do. He had no diplomat qualities, neither good at prying into people's inner thoughts nor observing the details. "When did you come back?" he asked stupidly. "Oh, about an hour ago. Why are you asking that?" "You were not at home when I came back this morning," said he, "so I think you are out."

"Yes," replied Carrie simply, "I've gone for a walk." Drouet looked at her in astonishment. Though he had no fear of losing face in such a matter, he did not know how to speak. He stared at her without concealment, and she finally asked: "Why are you looking at me like that? What happened?" "Nothing," he answered, "I'm just thinking about something." "What's on your mind?" she asked, smiling, puzzled by his manner. "Well, nothing... nothing remarkable." "Then why is that strange look on your face?"

Drouet was standing by the dressing-table, gazing at her absurdly. He had taken off his hat and gloves, and was now fiddling with the little cosmetics closest to him. Dissatisfaction came. He would have liked to believe that all was well and that nothing had happened. But what the maid had told him pierced his heart. He wanted to bring it up straight, but did not know what to say. "Where have you been this morning?" he asked at last, his words meaningless. "I went for a walk," said Carrie. "Are you really going for a walk?" he asked. "Yes, why do you ask that?"

She saw now that he had heard something, and her manner immediately became reserved, and her face grew pale. "I thought maybe you weren't going for a walk," he said vainly. Carrie watched him. The look began to restore some of her fading courage. She saw that he had little confidence, and with a woman's instinct she felt that there was no need to panic. "Why do you say that?" she asked, wrinkling her beautiful brow. "You are behaving strangely tonight." "I feel uncomfortable," he replied. They looked at each other for a moment. Drouet, becoming desperate, asked his own question directly:

"What's the matter with you and Hurstwood?" he asked. "Me and Hurstwood? What do you mean?" "He came a dozen times in my absence, didn't he?" "A dozen times," repeated Carrie guiltily, "no, no. What do you mean?" "They say you go for a ride in the carriage with him, and that he comes here every evening." "No such thing," replied Carrie, "it's not true. Who told you?" She blushed to the roots of her hair. But as the light in the room had grown dim, Drouet did not perceive any change in her color. Trust has been greatly restored.

"Well, I was told anyway," he said. "Are you sure you didn't?" "Of course," said Carrie. "You know yourself how many times he's been here." Drouet thought for a while. "I only know the times you told me," he said at last. He paced nervously up and down the room while Carrie watched him bewilderedly. "Well, I know I haven't said anything like that to you," said Carrie, recovering her composure. "If I were you," continued Drouet, without paying attention to her last words, "I would have nothing to do with him. He is a married man, you know. "

"Who . . . who is married?" asked Carrie, stammering. "Hurstwood, of course," replied Drouet, noting the effect of his words, and feeling that he had dealt her a distinct blow. "Hurstwood!" cried Carrie, rising to her feet. Her countenance changed several times at the news. She looked around blankly, thinking. "Who told you that?" she asked, completely unaware that she should be concerned about the news, it was out of character for her, and it was almost presumptuous to ask. "Why, I know it. I always knew it," said Drouet. Carrie was trying to make some sort of thread out of her confused thoughts. She looked wretched, but there was not a shred of nerve-wrecking timidity in the emotions that welled up in her.

"I think I told you," he added. "No, you didn't tell me," she retorted, her ability to speak suddenly restored. "You never mentioned a single thing of that kind." Drouet listened to her with astonishment, and felt that there was something new in her words. "I remember what I said," he said. Carrie looked around very solemnly, and then went to the window. "You shouldn't have anything to do with him," said Drouet aggrievedly; "you don't think how much I have done you." "You, you!" said Carrie, "what have you done for me?" All kinds of contradictory emotions surged up and down in her little head... Ashamed of what was exposed, ashamed of Hurstwood's treachery, and Drouet's deceit and his mockery of her now Annoyed. One thing was clear in her mind now: it was his fault. There was no doubt about it. Why did he introduce Hurstwood to her... Hurstwood , a married man, who never warned her? Forget Hurstwood's perversity for now...why would he do it? Why didn't he warn her? He shamefully failed her. His trust, but now he is still standing there, talking about how he helped her! "Well, that's very interesting," cried Drouet, not expecting that Carrie had been irritated by what he had just said. "I think I've done you a good deal." "Did you help me?" she answered, "you deceived me, and that's what you did. You brought your cronies here under a false name. You made me. Oh!" Her voice choked up at this point, and she squeezed her little hands together sadly. "I don't see how it has anything to do with your business," said Drouet, bewildered. "Yes," she said, regaining her composure, and gnashing her teeth, "yes, of course you can't see it. You can't see anything. You couldn't tell me from the start, could you? You must make a fool of me." , you didn't tell me until things got out of hand. Now you're sneaking up on me with the news you got, and talking about how you've been helping me." It had never occurred to Drouet that there was such a side of Carrie's character. She was agitated, her eyes glowed, her lips quivered, and her whole being felt hurt and angry. "Who sneaked here?" He asked back, slightly guilty, but determined that he had been wronged. "That's you," said Carrie, stamping her foot, "you're a pompous, terribly annoying coward. That's what you are. If you had any manliness, you wouldn't think of doing such a thing." The salesman was dumbfounded. "I'm not a coward," he said. "What do you mean by hanging out with other men anyway?" "Another man!" cried Carrie. "Another man... you know what it is. I did go out with Hurstwood, but whose fault is it? No Did you bring him here? Tell him yourself, let him come here and take me out to play. Now that you've played, you come back and tell me that I shouldn't be with him, he's a married woman husband." She broke off at "a married man," and twisted her hands in agony. The news that Hurstwood had deceived her was like a knife in her heart. "Ah, ah!" She sobbed, but tried her best to restrain the tears from her eyes, "Ah, ah!" "Well, I didn't expect you to be intimate with him in my absence," said Drouet stubbornly. "Didn't think so!" said Carrie, who was now thoroughly irritated by the fellow's queer manner. "Of course you can't, you only want to have wishful thinking. You only think of me as your plaything  … A toy. Well, I'm going to let you know it can't be done. I'm going to break it off with you. Take your shit back, I don't want it." She said and took off a little ornament he gave her. Needle, threw it on the ground vigorously. Then walked around the room, as if to pick up things that belonged to her. Her behavior not only irritated Drouet, but fascinated him further. He looked at her in surprise, and finally said: "I don't understand where your anger comes from. I am justified in this matter. You see For the sake of everything I've done for you, you shouldn't do anything wrong to me." "What have you done for me?" asked Carrie. Her head was thrown back, and her mouth was open to fire. "I think I have done a lot." The salesman said and looked around. "I bought you all the clothes you want. Right? I also took you to shop all you want place. I have it, and you have it. And you have more than mine." In any case, Carrie was not ungrateful. Intellectually, she certainly recognized the advantage Drouet was doing her. She hardly knew how to answer him, but her anger did not subside. She felt that Drouet Aye has done her irreparable harm. "Did I ask you for it?" she retorted. "Well, I sent it," said Drouet, "but you accepted it!" "You sound as if I asked you for it," said Carrie, "and you stand there babbling and bragging about the things you've done for me. I don't want any of your stuff, I don't. Take it away at night, and do whatever you like with these things. I don't want to stay here for a minute." "That's very interesting!" he replied, angry at the thought of his impending loss. "It's used up, and then I'm ready to slap my ass and walk. It's a typical woman's way. When you have nothing I took you in. Well, when you meet someone else, I'm useless. I knew it would happen." Thinking that he was so kind to her, but ended up like this, he was really sad, it's out of nature. "That's not the case," said Carrie. "I didn't mean to elope. You're a pain in the ass. You're inconsiderate. I hate you. I tell you, I don't want to live with you. You're a Insulting..." Here she stopped, hesitating to utter the curse, "otherwise you wouldn't be talking to me like that." She had taken her hat and coat, and had put them on over her thin evening dress. A few locks of curls had fallen out of a ribbon on one side of her head, and dangled on her flushed cheeks. She was very angry and ashamed. She was very sad, and her big eyes were filled with painful tears, but they had not yet fallen. She was distracted, helpless, groping here and there without purpose or result, wondering how this quarrel would end. "Well, that's a good way to end," said Drouet. "Want to pack up and go, don't you? You can do it. I'll bet you and Hurstwood were hot, or you wouldn't have done it. I don't want the house anymore. You don't have to move for me. You can stay here and I don't care. But God, you're sorry for me." "I don't live with you any more," said Carrie. "I don't want to live with you. Since you've been here, you've done nothing but boast." "Wow, no such thing at all," he replied. Carrie walked towards the door. "Where are you going?" he said, striding up and stopping her. "Let me out," she said. "Where are you going?" he asked again. He was a very sympathetic man, so although he was full of grievances, his heart softened when he saw that Carrie was going away from home, and she didn't know where she was going. Carrie made no answer, but went to pull the door. The situation was too much for her. After another vain attempt at the door, she could bear it no longer, and burst into tears. "Now, Gard, be sensible," said Drouet softly. "What good is it to get you out? You have nowhere to go. Why don't you just stay here and be quiet? I won't disturb you, I don't want to stay here any longer." Carrie sobbed from the door to the window, sobbing that she could not speak. "Be reasonable," he said, "I'm not trying to stop you. You can go if you want to. But why don't you think about it beforehand? For God's sake, I never meant to stop you." He got no answer, but his plea silenced her. "You stay here, I'll go," he added at last. Carrie listened to him with mixed feelings. Like a boat without anchor, her thoughts drifted illogically, sick at one thought, angry at another. She thought of herself, Hess. Oh no, Drouet no, she thought of their love and help to her. She thought of the difficulty of going out to earn a living... She had failed once. She thought of the impossibility of staying here again , she is no longer qualified to live in these rooms. These thoughts, combined with the pressure on the nerves caused by the quarrel, made her thoughts like a mess, and she couldn't figure it out... A thread without anchor The little boat is at the mercy of the wind and rain, and can do nothing but drift with the current. After a few minutes of this, Drouet had a new idea. He came up, laid his hand on her, and said, "Well..." "Don't touch me!" said Carrie, moving away, but still covering her eyes with her handkerchief. "Forget about the quarrel now, just put it aside. Anyway, you can live here until the end of the month. Then you can think about how you can do it better. How?" Carrie made no answer. "You'd better do it," he said. "You pack up and go now. It's no use at all. You have nowhere to go." He still didn't get an answer. "If you agree to do so, we shall not talk for a while. I will move out." Carrie took the handkerchief slightly from her eyes, and looked out of the window. "Would you like to do this?" he asked. Still no answer. "Will you?" he repeated. She just stared blankly at the road outside the window. "Well, talk," he said, "tell me, will you?" "I don't know," whispered Carrie compelled. "Promise me that you will do as I say," he said, "and we shall not talk about it any more. It will be best for you." Carrie listened to him, but could not answer him sensibly. She felt his tenderness for her, his undiminished interest in her, and it made her feel guilty. She was really torn. As for Drouet, his attitude was that of a jealous lover. He had mixed feelings, angry at being deceived, sorry at the loss of Carrie, and sad at his own failure. He wanted to regain his rights in some way, Yet his rights included keeping Carrie and making her admit she was wrong. "You promise?" he urged. "Well, let me see," said Carrie. Although the answer was still ambiguous, it was a step forward. It seemed that if they could find some way to talk, the quarrel would pass. Carrie was ashamed, and Drouet was wronged. He began to pretend Pack things into the suitcase. Now, as Carrie looked at him out of the corners of her eyes, she began to think a little more rightly. Yes, he was at fault, but what did she do? He was thinking of himself, but he Amiable, kind, good-natured. He never said a harsh word during the quarrel. That Hurstwood, on the other hand, was a greater liar. His tenderness and passion were all feigned, and he kept Lying to her. Oh, the treachery of men! And she should love him. Of course there is no love at all now, and she will never see Hurstwood now. She will write to him and tell him what she thinks. Tell him. What is she to do, then? The house is still here, and Drouet is still begging her to stay. Obviously, if everything is properly arranged, she can live here as before. It is better than being in the street. It's much better to live anywhere. While she was thinking of all this, Drouet was rummaging through boxes and boxes for his shirt collar. It took him some time to find a shirt button. He was in no hurry to pack. He felt that Carrie He couldn't imagine his relationship with Carrie ending with him out of this room. There must be some way out, some way for her to admit she wasn't good, that he was right . . . and they'll make it up, and get Hurstwood out for good. Good heavens, this fellow's shameless deceit is disgusting. "Are you thinking of going on stage?" he asked after a few minutes' silence. He wondered what her plans were. "I don't know what I'll do yet," said Carrie. "If you want to be on stage, maybe I can help you. I've got quite a few friends in that line." She didn't answer. "Don't go out without a penny. Let me help you," he said, "it's not easy to make a living here alone." Carrie just sat rocking in the rocking chair. "I don't want you to go out like this and encounter difficulties." He asked some other details, but Carrie continued rocking in the rocking-chair. After a while he said again: "You tell me all about it, and we get over it, won't you? You don't love Hurstwood, do you?" "Why do you start bringing it up again?" said Carrie, "and it's all your fault." "No! Don't blame me," he replied. "Yes, and you too," said Carrie, "why did you lie to me like that?" "But you haven't got much to do with him, have you?" Drouet continued, anxious to hear Carrie's flat denial, so that he might feel at ease. "I don't want to talk about it," said Carrie. It pained her so much to cross-examine her for a settlement. "Jade, what's the use of doing this?" the salesman asked stubbornly. He stopped packing, and raised his hand expressively: "You should at least let me know my current position." "I don't want to say it," answered Carrie. She felt that she had no way out of it except by losing her temper. "Whatever happens, it's your fault." "You do love him, then?" said Drouet, stopping completely this time, feeling a surge of anger. "Stop it!" said Carrie. "Well, I don't want to be a fool," cried Drouet; "you go fool with him if you want to fool with him. I won't let you lead me by the nose. If you will tell me, no." Tell me as much as you like. I don't want to be a fool any more." He stuffed the last few things he had found into the suitcase and snapped the lid angrily. Then he snatched up the coat that he had taken off to unpack, picked up the gloves, and went out. "To hell with me," said he, as he came to the door. "I'm not a suckling child." With that he flung the door open, and, as he went out, slammed it shut again. Carrie sat at the window and listened to all this, very surprised at the salesman's sudden outburst. She could not believe her eyes and ears.... He had always been such a kind and pleasant man. Of course she did not Know the source of human passions. The fire of true love is a subtle thing. It will gleam like a phosphorous fire, and it will leap and fly to the fairyland of joy. But it will burn like a fire in a furnace. .And jealousy often provides the fuel for the flames of love.