Chapter 39 Chapter 39 Light and Darkness: Parting Ways

The result of this resolution in Hurstwood was that he became more convinced that any given day was not a good day for work. Carrie, meanwhile, lived through thirty days of mental anguish. Her needs for clothing...not to mention her desire for decorative objects...are rapidly increasing with the reality that, although she is already working, her needs still have to When she had these new urges of decency, the sympathy she had for him disappeared when he begged her to help him through. He didn't always refer to him But this desire for beauty kept making demands. This desire was very firm, and Carrie hoped that it would be fulfilled, so she hoped more and more that Hurstwood would not stand in her way.

When Hurstwood was almost down to the last ten dollars, he thought he'd better keep some pocket money, so that he didn't have to rely entirely on others for car rides, facial repairs, etc. Therefore, when he had When he had ten dollars left, he declared himself penniless. "I'm penniless," he said to Carrie one afternoon. "I paid some coal this morning, so there's only a dime or a quarter left." "I have some money in my purse over there." Hurstwood went up and took the money, at first for a can of tomatoes. Carrie hardly noticed that this was the beginning of a new order. He took a quarter and used it to buy cans. After that he was So little by little she was asked for money, until one morning Carrie suddenly remembered that she would not be back until supper time.

"We've got all our flour," she said, "you'd better go get some this afternoon. We've got all our meat too. Do you think we'll have some liver and bacon?" "All right," said Hurstwood. "It's better to buy a half pound or a quarter pound." "Half a pound will do," said Hurstwood volunteered. She opened her purse, took out fifty cents and put it on the table. He pretended not to see it. Hurstwood bought a three-and-a-half-pound bag of flour for 13 cents. . and bacon. He put these on the kitchen table, with the twenty-two-cent change, where Carrie had seen it. The change was a good deal. It did not escape her. She was a little hurt when she realized that he was only trying to get a living from her. It seemed unfair to her to be too hard on him. Maybe he'd find something else to do. He hadn't done anything bad.

But that very evening, as she entered the theater, a girl from the chorus passed her in a beautiful new suit of mottled tweed, which caught Carrie's eye. The young The girl wore a fine bouquet of violets, and looked in high spirits. She smiled kindly at Carrie as she went by, showing her fine teeth, and Carrie smiled back at her. "She can afford it," thought Carrie, "and so can I, if I can keep my money. I don't even have a decent tie." She stretched out one foot and stared blankly at her shoes. "Anyway, I'm going to buy a pair of shoes on Saturday. I don't care what happens."

One of the loveliest, most sympathetic little girls made friends with the chorus, for she found nothing in Carrie to daunt her. She was a merry little Manyy, Unaware of the strict moral views of society, yet very kind and generous to those around her. The chorus dancers rarely have freedom of conversation, but there are some conversations. "It's warm tonight, isn't it?" said the girl, who wore a flesh-coloured doublet and a gold false helmet. She also carried a shiny shield. "Yes, it's very warm," said Carrie, glad that she should be spoken to. "I seem to be baking in the oven," said the girl.

Carrie looked carefully at her pretty face, with its large blue eyes, and noticed that there were little beads of sweat on it. "There's more striding in this opera than in anything I've ever done before," added the girl. "Have you ever acted in anything else?" asked Carrie, amazed at her experience. "A lot," said the girl, "and you?" "This is my first time." "Oh, did you? I thought I saw you when The Queen's Consort was played here." "No," said Carrie, shaking her head, "that's not me."

The conversation was interrupted by the blowing of the band and the crackling of calcium carbide lamps on either side of the stage, at which point the dancers were called to line up for another performance. There was no further opportunity for conversation after that. But the next day In the evening, when they were getting ready to go on stage, the girl reappeared beside her. "They said the show was going on tour next month." "Really?" said Carrie. "Yes, do you want to go?" "I don't know. If they let me go, I think I'll go." "Oh, they'll let you go. I don't want to go. They won't pay you much, and you'll spend all the money you earn on living expenses. I never leave New York. There's a lot going on here." "

"Can you always find other actors?" "I can always find it. There's a play on Broadway this month. If it's going to be in the show, I'm going to try that one and get a part." As Carrie heard this, it dawned on her. Evidently, it wasn't very difficult to get on. If the play went out, perhaps she could find another part. "Do they all pay the same salary?" she asked. "Yes. Sometimes you can take a little more. This one doesn't give much." "I'll take twelve," said Carrie. "Really?" said the girl. "They give me fifteen dollars. And your play is heavier than mine. If I were you, I couldn't bear it. They underpay you because they think you don't know. You should be able to earn fifteen dollars."

"Well, I don't make that much," said Carrie. "Well, you can earn more in another place, if you like," went on the girl, who was very fond of Carrie. "You play very well, and the manager knows that." To tell the truth, there was something pleasing and somewhat distinctive about Carrie's performance, which she did not realize. It was all due to her naturalness and lack of coyness. "Do you think I'll make more money going to the Broadway theater?" "Of course you can earn more," answered the girl. "You will come with me when I go. I will talk to them."

Carrie blushed with gratitude. She liked the little girl who played the soldier. She wore a gold-leaf helmet and soldier's gear, and she looked experienced and confident. "If I can always get a job in this way, my future must be secure," thought Carrie. But in the morning, when she was harassed by the housework, and Hurstwood sat like a burden, her fate seemed sad and heavy. Their meals, by Hurstwood's prudence, were not very expensive. There may be enough money to pay the rent, but there is not much left. Carrie bought shoes and other things, which made the rent problem very serious. One day before the unfortunate day of rent payment. On Sunday, Carrie suddenly found that she was running out of money.

"I see," cried she, looking at her purse at breakfast, "I don't have enough money to pay my rent." "How much money do you have left?" asked Hurstwood. "Oh, I still have twenty-two dollars. But I have all the bills to pay for this week, and if I spend all the money I got on Saturday on the rent, I won't have a penny next week. What do you think your Is the hotelier going to open this month?" "I think so," replied Hurstwood. "He said he would." After a while Hurstwood said: "Don't worry about it. Maybe the grocer will be willing to wait. He can wait. We've had him so long he'll trust us and let us have a week or two on credit." "Do you think he would?" she asked. "I think so." Therefore, on this day, when Hurstwood asked for a pound of coffee, he looked straight into the eyes of the grocer Oslag and said: "Would you keep an account for me and pay every weekend?" "Yes, yes, Mr. Wheeler," said Mr. Oslager, "that's all right." Hurstwood, still experienced in poverty, said nothing more at this. It seemed an easy task. He looked out of the door, and then, waiting for the coffee to be wrapped, picked it up and went away. This is where the tricks of the desperate man begin. The rent was paid, and now it was time to pay the grocer. Hurstwood managed to pay the grocer with his ten dollars and ask Carrie for it at the end of the week. Then, on the next occasion, he put off paying the grocer a day. , so soon his ten dollars came back, and Oslag would not receive last Saturday's debt until Thursday or Friday. This entanglement made Carrie eager for a change. Hurstwood did not seem to realize that she had a right to do anything. He only managed to meet all his expenses with her income, but did not try to increase it himself. "He says he's worried," thought Carrie; "if he was really worried, he wouldn't be sitting there waiting for my money. He ought to find something to do. Just try to find it, and no one will." It's not like you can't find work for seven months." Seeing him always at home, disheveled and sad, Carrie was obliged to seek solace elsewhere. She had two matinees a week, and Hurstwood ate cold snacks he had made himself. The other two Today, rehearsals start at ten o'clock in the morning and generally last until one o'clock in the afternoon. In addition to these, Carrie has now added a few visits to one or two chorus dancers, including the blue-eyed one with the golden helmet Soldier. She went to visit them, because it pleased her, and gave her a break from the dreary home and her husband who was there. That blue-eyed soldier's name is Osborne...Lola Osborne. She lives on Nineteenth Street, near Fourth Avenue, in a block full of office buildings. She has a The comfortable back room can see many backyards below, and some shade trees are planted in the yard, which looks very pleasant. "Isn't your family in New York?" she asked Laura one day. "Yes, but I don't get on well with my family. They always want me to do what they want. Do you live here?" "Yes," said Carrie. "Live with your family?" Carrie was ashamed to say that she was married. She had spoken many times about her desire to earn more salary, and expressed her anxiety about her future many times. But now, when she was asked directly about the facts and awaited an answer, she Can't tell this girl anymore. "Living with relatives," she answered. Miss Osborne took it for granted that, like herself, Carrie's time was her own. She was always telling her to stay a little longer, suggesting going out and doing things of the sort, so that Carrie began to forget to eat It was time for supper. Hurstwood noticed this, but felt he had no right to blame her. Several times she came back too late, with less than an hour left, and after a hasty makeshift meal, she set out for the theater. "Are you rehearsing in the afternoon?" asked Hurstwood once. He had meant to express his protest and regret in a sarcastic tone, but he almost concealed his intention when he asked. "No, I'm looking for another job," said Carrie. In fact she was looking for it, but that was a very far-fetched excuse, and Miss Osborne went with her to the office of the manager who was about to put on a new Broadway play, and then went straight back to Osborne Miss's place, where they stayed after three o'clock. Carrie felt that the question was a violation of her freedom. She did not consider how much freedom she had gained. It just felt that her latest actions, her latest freedom, should not be questioned. Hurstwood saw all this clearly. He had his shrewdness, but the man's modesty prevented him from making any vigorous protest. His almost incomprehensible indifference made him Carrie was as content with self-depression as she was out of his life, just as he was content to see opportunities slip from his grasp. A feeble way of protesting. However, this way only gradually widened the rift between them. The rift between them was further widened when the manager, from between the sides of the stage, watched the corps dancers perform some dazzling prescribed moves on the brightly lit stage The supervisor said something. "Who's that fourth girl on the right...the one who's turning around at the other end?" "Oh," said the director of the chorus, "that's Miss Madonda." "She's pretty. Why don't you let her lead that team?" "I'll do what you want," said the man. "That's all. She's better there than you are here." "Okay, I'll do it," said the supervisor. Carrie was called out the next night, as if she had done something wrong. "You lead the team tonight," said the supervisor. "Yes, sir," said Carrie. "Play hard," he added, "we'll have to play hard." "Yes, sir," answered Carrie. She was very surprised by this change, thinking that the original leader must be sick, but when she saw that she was still in the team, with obvious displeasure in her eyes, she began to realize that maybe it was because she was stronger. Her posture, with her head thrown to one side and her arms positioned as if for a movement, was very chic and energetic. Standing at the head of the line, this posture was more fully expressed. "That girl knows how to keep her posture beautiful," said the manager another evening. He began to want to talk to her. If he hadn't made a rule that he had nothing to do with the chorus members, he would have done nothing. Restrained to find her. "Put that girl at the head of the whites," he suggested to the director of the chorus. The white procession consisted of about twenty girls, all dressed in snow-white flannel dresses trimmed with silver and blue lace. With epaulets and a silver belt, and a short sword hanging from one side. Carrie went to try on the costume, and went on stage a few days later, proud of her new honors. She was particularly pleased with , she knows that her salary has now changed from 12 yuan to 18 yuan. Hurstwood knew nothing about it. "I won't give him the extra money I have," said Carrie; "I've given enough. I'll buy myself something to wear." In fact, during this second month, she has been buying things for herself as boldly and desperately as possible, without thinking about the consequences. The trouble is more when the rent payment day is approaching, and the credit for buying things in the neighborhood The range is also wider. But now, she intends to be more generous to herself. Her first step was to buy an imitation men's shirt. When shopping for a shirt, she found that she could buy very little with her money... If all the money went to her, then she could She bought a lot of things. She forgot that if she lived alone, she would still have to pay rent and meals, but just imagined that every penny of her 18 yuan could be used to buy her favorite clothes and things. In the end, she picked something, and not only used up all but the extra twelve dollars, but overdrawn the twelve dollars. She knew she had gone too far, but her womanly nature, who loved pretty clothes, prevailed. Next day Hurstwood said: "We owe the grocer $5.40 this week." "Really?" said Carrie, frowning a little. She looked into the wallet, ready to take out the money. "I only have eight dollars and twenty cents in all." "We still owe sixty cents for the milk," added Hurstwood. "Yes, and the coalman," said Carrie. Hurstwood fell silent. He had seen her new purchases, her neglect of housework, her tendency to slip out in the afternoons and not return. He felt that something was about to happen. Suddenly, she opened her mouth and said: "I don't know whether to say it," she said, "but I can't afford everything. I don't earn enough." It was an open challenge. Hurstwood had to meet it. He tried to keep calm. "I don't want you to do everything," he said, "I just want you to help me a little while I get something to do." "Oh, yes," said Carrie, "it's always been that way. I can't make ends meet. I don't know what to do." "Well, I'm trying to find something to do!" he cried. "What do you want me to do?" "Perhaps you haven't worked hard enough?" said Carrie. "I've found something to do." "Hey, I'm working hard," he said, almost on the verge of swearing. "You don't have to show me your success. I just want you to help me a little while I find something to do. I'm not done yet. .I'll be alright." He tried to speak firmly, but his voice trembled a little. Carrie lost her temper at once. She felt ashamed. "Well," she said, "here's your money," and dumped the money in my purse on the table. "I don't have enough money to pay all the credit. But if they can wait until Saturday, I'll get some." money." "You keep it," said Hurstwood sadly; "I'll just have enough to pay the grocer." She put the money back in her purse, and went to prepare supper early, so that it would be served on time. After such a fuss, she felt as if she should make amends. After a while, they were thinking of each other again as before. "She makes more money than she says," thought Hurstwood. "She says she makes twelve dollars, but that ain't enough to buy that much. I don't care. Just let her keep her money." Well. I'll find something to do someday. Tell her to go to hell then." He just said these words in a fit of anger, but it fully foreshadowed a possible development and the attitude towards it. "I don't care," thought Carrie, "he ought to be sent out and do something. I shouldn't have to support him after all." During these days Carrie had been introduced to several young men who were friends of Miss Osborne's, and were of a veritable jovial and jovial kind. They went for a drive together in a carriage. Carrie was with her at the time. "Come on, let's go together," said Laura. "No, I can't go," said Carrie. "Oh, I can go, let's go together, what do you want?" "I must be home at five o'clock," said Carrie. "What are you doing?" "Oh, have dinner." "They'll take us to supper," said Laura. "Oh, no," said Carrie, "I won't. I can't." "Oh, go on, they're good lads. We'll get you back in time. We'll just go for a ride in Central Park." Carrie considered for a while, and finally gave in. "But I must be back at four-thirty," she said. The words went in one of Laura's ears and came out of the other. After Drouet and Hurstwood, there was always a touch of sarcasm in her attitude to young men, especially to those who were rash and frivolous. She felt herself to be older than them. They said some compliments. Sounds silly. Still, she's still young in mind and body, and youth still appeals to her. "Oh, we'll be right back, Miss Madonda," said one of the boys, bowing. "Now you trust us not to delay you, don't you?" "Oh, I don't know that," she said, laughing. They set off for a drive. She looked around, noting the finery. The lads made foolish jokes and dry quips that would have been humorous in the coy swinger circles. Carrie saw Go to the Park From the entrance on Fifty-ninth Street, around the Museum of Fine Arts, to the exit on the corner of 110th Street and Seventh Avenue, her eyes were once again attracted by the spectacle of affluence. . . . fine dress, elegant harness, lively horses, and, above all, beautiful women. The torment of poverty stung her again, but now, forgetting Hurstwood, she Forgot some of my troubles. Hurstwood waited until four, five, or even six. It was nearly dark when he rose from his chair. "I don't think she will come home," he said coldly. "That's the way it is," thought he, "she's making her mark now. I'm out of it." Carrie did realize her negligence, but it was a quarter past five, and the cabriolet was far away on Seventh Avenue, near the Harlem River. "What time is it?" she asked. "I must go back." "A quarter past five," said her companion, looking at a fine open pocket watch. "Oh, dear!" cried Carrie. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back in her seat. "There's no use crying," said she, "it's too late." "It's too late," said the young man, imagining a good dinner and how to make the conversation pleasant so that we could meet again after the show. He was fascinated by Carrie. "We're going to Delmo now." Would you like something to eat at Neely's, Orin?" "Of course," Olin replied cheerfully. Carrie thought of Hurstwood. She had never been home before for supper without good reason. They drove back and sat down to eat at a quarter past six. It was a reenactment of the dinner at Shelly's, and Carrie recalled it painfully. She thought of Mrs. Vance, from that time at Hurstwood. After receiving her, she never came again. She also thought of Ames. Her memory stopped at this man. It was a strong and clear vision. He liked better books than she read, better people than she made friends with. His ideals burned in her heart. "It's nice to be a good actress," she heard the words clearly again. What kind of actress is she? "What are you thinking, Miss Madonda?" asked her merry companion. "Well, now let me see if I can guess it." "Oh, no," said Carrie, "don't guess." She put aside her fantasies, and began to eat. She somewhat forgot about it, and was in a good mood. But when it came to the meeting again after the play, she shook her head. "No," she said, "I can't. I already have a date." "Oh, yes, Miss Madonda," implored the young man. "No," said Carrie, "I can't. You've been very kind to me, but I must ask you to forgive me." The young man looked downcast. "Cheer up, old chap," his friend whispered into his ear, "we're going there anyway. She might change her mind."