Chapter 35

THEPASSINGOFEFFORT—THEVISAGEOFCARE

Thenestmorninghelookedoverthepapersandwadedthroughalonglistofadvertisements,makingafewnotes.Thenheturnedtothemale-help-wantedcolumn,butwithdisagreeablefeelings.Thedaywasbeforehim—alongdayinwhichtodiscoversomething—andthiswashowhemustbegintodiscover.Hescannedthelongcolumn,whichmostlyconcernedbakers,bushelmen,cooks,compositors,drivers,andthelike,findingtwothingsonlywhicharrestedhiseye.Onewasacashierwantedinawholesalefurniturehouse,andtheotherasalesmanforawhiskeyhouse.Hehadneverthoughtofthelatter.Atoncehedecidedtolookthatup.

ThefirminquestionwasAlsbery&Co.,whiskeybrokers.

Hewasadmittedalmostatoncetothemanageronhisappearance.

“Good-morning,sir,”saidthelatter,thinkingatfirstthathewasencounteringoneofhisout-of-towncustomers.

“Good-morning,”saidHurstwood.“Youadvertised,Ibelieve,forasalesman.”

“Oh,”saidtheman,showingplainlytheenlightenmentwhichhadcometohim.“Yes.Yes,Idid.”

“IthoughtI’ddropin,”saidHurstwood,withdignity.“I’vehadsomeexperienceinthatline

myself.”

“Oh,haveyou.”saidtheman.“Whatexperiencehaveyouhad.”

“Well,I’vemanagedseveralliquorhousesinmytime.RecentlyIownedathird-interestinasaloonatWarrenandHudsonstreets.”

“Isee,”saidtheman.

Hurstwoodceased,waitingforsomesuggestion.

“Wedidwantasalesman,”saidtheman.“Idon’tknowasit’sanythingyou’dcaretotakeholdof,though.”

“Isee,”saidHurstwood.“Well,I’minnopositiontochoose,justatpresent.Ifitwereopen,Ishouldbegladtogetit.”

Themandidnottakekindlyatalltohis“Nopositiontochoose.”Hewantedsomeonewhowasn’tthinkingofachoiceorsomethingbetter.Especiallynotanoldman.Hewantedsomeoneyoung,active,andgladtoworkactivelyforamoderatesum.Hurstwooddidnotpleasehimatall.Hehadmoreofanairthanhisemployers.

“Well,”hesaidinanswer,“we’dbegladtoconsideryourapplication.Weshan’tdecideforafewdaysyet.Supposeyousendusyourreferences.”

“Iwill,”saidHurstwood.

Henoddedgood-morningandcameaway.Atthecornerhelookedatthefurniturecompany’saddress,andsawthatitwasinWestTwenty-thirdStreet.Accordingly,hewentupthere.Theplacewasnotlargeenough,however.Itlookedmoderate,themeninitidleandsmallsalaried.Hewalkedby,glancingin,andthendecidednottogointhere.

“Theywantagirl,probably,attenaweek,”hesaid.

Atoneo’clockhethoughtofeating,andwenttoarestaurantinMadisonSquare.Thereheponderedoverplaceswhichhemightlookup.Hewastired.Itwasblowingupgrayagain.Acrosstheway,throughMadisonSquarePark,stoodthegreathotels,looking

downuponabusyscene.Hedecidedtogoovertothelobbyofoneandsitawhile.Itwaswarminthereandbright.HehadseennooneheknewattheBroadwayCentral.Inalllikelihoodhewouldencounternoonehere.FindingaseatononeoftheredplushdivansclosetothegreatwindowswhichlookoutonBroadway’sbusyrout,hesatmusing.Hisstatedidnotseemsobadinhere.Sittingstillandlookingout,hecouldtakesomeslightconsolationinthefewhundreddollarshehadinhispurse.Hecouldforget,inameasure,thewearinessofthestreetandhistiresomesearches.Still,itwasonlyescapefromaseveretoalessseverestate.Hewasstillgloomyanddisheartened.There,minutesseemedtogoveryslowly.Anhourwasalong,longtimeinpassing.Itwasfilledforhimwithobservationsandmentalcommentsconcerningtheactualguestsofthehotel,whopassedinandout,andthosemoreprosperouspedestrianswhosegoodfortuneshowedintheirclothesandspiritsastheypassedalongBroadway,outside.Itwasnearlythefirsttimesincehehadarrivedinthecitythathisleisureaffordedhimampleopportunitytocontemplatethisspectacle.Now,being,perforce,idlehimself,hewonderedattheactivityofothers.Howgayweretheyouthshesaw,howprettythewomen.Suchfineclothestheyallwore.Theyweresointentupongettingsomewhere.Hesawcoquettishglancescastbymagnificentgirls.Ah,themoneyitrequiredtotrainwithsuch—howwellheknew!Howlongithadbeensincehehadhadtheopportunitytodoso!

Theclockoutsideregisteredfour.Itwasalittleearly,buthethoughthewouldgobacktotheflat.

ThisgoingbacktotheflatwascoupledwiththethoughtthatCarriewouldthinkhewassittingaroundtoomuchifhecamehomeearly.Hehopedhewouldn’thaveto,butthedayhungheavilyonhishands.Overtherehewasonhisownground.Hecouldsitinhisrocking-chairandread.Thisbusy,distracting,suggestivescenewasshutout.Hecouldreadhispapers.Accordingly,hewenthome.Carriewasreading,quitealone.Itwasratherdarkintheflat,shutinasitwas.

“You’llhurtyoureyes,”hesaidwhenhesawher.

Aftertakingoffhiscoat,hefeltitincumbentuponhimtomakesomelittlereportofhisday.

“I’vebeentalkingwithawholesaleliquorcompany,”hesaid.“Imaygoontheroad.”

“Wouldn’tthatbenice!”saidCarrie.“Itwouldn’tbesuchabadthing,”heanswered.

Alwaysfromthemanatthecornernowheboughttwopapers—the“EveningWorld”and“EveningSun.”Sonowhemerelypickedhispapersup,ashecameby,withoutstopping.

Hedrewuphischairneartheradiatorandlightedthegas.Thenitwasastheeveningbefore.Hisdifficultiesvanishedintheitemshesowelllovedtoread.

Thenextdaywasevenworsethantheonebefore,becausenowhecouldnotthinkofwheretogo.Nothinghesawinthepapershestudied—tillteno’clock—appealedtohim.Hefeltthatheoughttogoout,andyethesickenedatthethought.Whereto,whereto.

“Youmustn’tforgettoleavememymoneyforthisweek,”saidCarrie,quietly.

Theyhadanarrangementbywhichheplacedtwelvedollarsaweekinherhands,outofwhichtopaycurrentexpenses.Heheavedalittlesighasshesaidthis,anddrewouthispurse.Againhefeltthedreadofthething.Herehewastakingoff,takingoff,andnothingcomingin.

“Lord!”hesaid,inhisownthoughts,“thiscan’tgoon.”

ToCarriehesaidnothingwhatsoever.Shecouldfeelthatherrequestdisturbedhim.Topayherwouldsoon

becomeadistressingthing.

“Yet,whathaveIgottodowithit.”shethought.“Oh,whyshouldIbemadetoworry.”

HurstwoodwentoutandmadeforBroadway.Hewantedtothinkupsomeplace.Beforelong,though,hereachedtheGrandHotelatThirty-firstStreet.Heknewofitscomfortablelobby.Hewascoldafterhistwentyblocks’walk.

“I’llgointheirbarbershopandgetashave,”hethought.

Thushejustifiedhimselfinsittingdowninhereafterhistonsorialtreatment.

Again,timehangingheavilyonhishands,hewenthomeearly,andthiscontinuedforseveraldays,eachdaytheneedtohuntpaininghim,andeachdaydisgust,depression,shamefacednessdrivinghimintolobbyidleness.

Atlastthreedayscameinwhichastormprevailed,andhedidnotgooutatall.Thesnowbegantofalllateoneafternoon.Itwasaregularflurryoflarge,soft,whiteflakes.Inthemorningitwasstillcomingdownwithahighwind,andthepapersannouncedablizzard.Fromoutthefrontwindowsonecouldseeadeep,softbedding.

“IguessI’llnottrytogooutto-day,”hesaidtoCarrieatbreakfast.“It’sgoingtobeawfulbad,sothepaperssay.”

“Themanhasn’tbroughtmycoal,either,”saidCarrie,whoorderedbythebushel.

“I’llgooverandseeaboutit,”saidHurstwood.Thiswasthefirsttimehehadeversuggesteddoinganerrand,but,somehow,thewishtositaboutthehouseprompteditasasortofcompensationfortheprivilege.

Alldayandallnightitsnowed,andthecitybegantosufferfromageneralblockadeoftraffic.Greatattentionwasgiventothedetailsofthestormbythenewspapers,whichplayedupthedistressofthepoorinlargetype.

Hurstwoodsatandreadbyhisradiatorinthecorner.Hedidnottrytothinkabouthisneedofwork.Thisstormbeingsoterrific,andtyingupallthings,robbedhimoftheneed.Hemadehimselfwhollycomfortableandtoastedhisfeet.

Carrieobservedhiseasewithsomemisgiving.Forallthefuryofthestormshedoubtedhiscomfort.Hetookhissituationtoophilosophically.

Hurstwood,however,readonandon.HedidnotpaymuchattentiontoCarrie.Shefulfilledherhouseholddutiesandsaidlittletodisturbhim.

Thenextdayitwasstillsnowing,andthenext,bittercold.Hurstwoodtookthealarmofthepaperandsatstill.Nowhevolunteeredtodoafewotherlittlethings.Onewastogotothebutcher,anothertothegrocery.Hereallythoughtnothingoftheselittleservicesinconnectionwiththeirtruesignificance.Hefeltasifhewerenotwhollyuseless—indeed,insuchastressofweather,quiteworthwhileaboutthehouse.

Onthefourthday,however,itcleared,andhereadthatthestormwasover.Now,however,heidled,thinkinghowsloppythestreetswouldbe.

Itwasnoonbeforehefinallyabandonedhispapersandgotunderway.Owingtotheslightlywarmertemperaturethestreetswerebad.HewentacrossFourteenthStreetonthecarandgotatransfersouthonBroadway.Onelittleadvertisementhehad,relatingtoasaloondowninPearlStreet.WhenhereachedtheBroadwayCentral,however,hechangedhismind.

“What’stheuse.”hethought,lookingoutupontheslopandsnow.“Icouldn’tbuyintoit.It’sathousandtoonenothingcomesofit.IguessI’llgetoff,”andoffhegot.Inthelobbyhetookaseatandwaitedagain,wonderingwhathecoulddo.

Whilehewasidlypondering,satisfiedtobeinside,awelldressedmanpassedupthelobby,stopped,lookedsharply,asifnotsureofhismemory,andthenapproached.HurstwoodrecognizedCargill,theownerofthelargestablesinChicagoofthesamename,whomhehadlastseenatAveryHall,thenightCarrieappearedthere.Theremembranceofhowthisindividualbroughtuphiswifetoshakehandsonthatoccasionwasalsoontheinstantclear.

Hurstwoodwasgreatlyabashed.Hiseyesexpressedthedifficultyhefelt.

“Why,it’sHurstwood!”saidCargill,rememberingnow,andsorrythathehadnotrecognizedhimquicklyenoughinthebeginningtohaveavoidedthismeeting.

“Yes,”saidHurstwood.“Howareyou.”

“Verywell,”saidCargill,troubledforsomethingtotalkabout.“Stoppinghere.”

“No,”saidHurstwood,“justkeepinganappointment.”“IknewyouhadleftChicago.Iwaswonderingwhathadbecomeofyou.”“Oh,I’mherenow,”answeredHurstwood,anxioustogetaway.

“Doingwell,Isuppose.”

“Excellent.”

“Gladtohearit.”

Theylookedatoneanother,ratherembarrassed.

“Well,Ihaveanengagementwithafriendupstairs.I’llleaveyou.Solong.”

Hurstwoodnoddedhishead.

“Damnitall,”hemurmured,turningtowardthedoor.“Iknewthatwouldhappen.”

Hewalkedseveralblocksupthestreet.Hiswatchonlyregistered

1.30.Hetriedtothinkofsomeplacetogoorsomethingtodo.Thedaywassobadhewantedonlytobeinside.Finallyhisfeetbegantofeelwetandcold,andheboardedacar.ThistookhimtoFifty-ninthStreet,whichwasasgoodasanywhereelse.Landedhere,heturnedtowalkbackalongSeventhAvenue,buttheslushwastoomuch.Themiseryofloungingaboutwithnowheretogobecameintolerable.Hefeltasifhewerecatchingcold.Stoppingatacorner,hewaitedforacarsouthbound.Thiswasnodaytobeout;hewouldgohome.

Carriewassurprisedtoseehimataquarterofthree.

“It’samiserabledayout,”wasallhesaid.Thenhetookoffhiscoatandchangedhisshoes.Thatnighthefeltacoldcomingonandtookquinine.Hewasfeverishuntilmorning,andsataboutthenextdaywhileCarriewaitedonhim.Hewasahelplesscreatureinsickness,notveryhandsomeinadull-coloredbathgownandhishairuncombed.Helookedhaggardabouttheeyesandquiteold.Carrienoticedthis,anditdidnotappealtoher.Shewantedtobegood-naturedandsympathetic,butsomethingaboutthemanheldheraloof.

Towardeveninghelookedsobadlyintheweaklightthatshesuggestedhegotobed.

“You’dbettersleepalone,”shesaid,“you’llfeelbetter.I’llopenyourbedforyounow.”

“Allright,”hesaid.

Asshedidallthesethings,shewasinamostdespondentstate.

“Whatalife!Whatalife!”washeronethought.

Onceduringtheday,whenhesatneartheradiator,hunchedupandreading,shepassedthrough,andseeinghim,wrinkledherbrows.Inthefrontroom,whereitwasnotsowarm,shesatbythewindowandcried.Thiswasthelifecutoutforher,wasit.Tolivecoopedupinasmallflatwithsomeonewhowasoutofwork,idle,andindifferenttoher.Shewasmerelyaservanttohimnow,nothingmore.

Thiscryingmadehereyesred,andwhen,inpreparinghisbed,shelightedthegas,and,havingpreparedit,calledhimin,henoticedthefact.

“What’sthematterwithyou.”heasked,lookingintoherface.Hisvoicewashoarseandhisunkemptheadonlyaddedtoitsgruesomequality.

“Nothing,”saidCarrie,weakly.

“You’vebeencrying,”hesaid.

“Ihaven’t,either,”sheanswered.

Itwasnotforloveofhim,thatheknew.

“Youneedn’tcry,”hesaid,gettingintobed.“Thingswillcomeoutallright.”

Inadayortwohewasupagain,butroughweatherholding,hestayedin.TheItaliannewsdealernowdeliveredthemorningpapers,andthesehereadassiduously.Afewtimesafterthatheventuredout,butmeetinganotherofhisold-timefriends,hebegantofeeluneasysittingabouthotelcorridors.

Everydayhecamehomeearly,andatlastmadenopretenceofgoinganywhere.Winterwasnotimetolookforanything.

Naturally,beingaboutthehouse,henoticedthewayCarriedidthings.Shewasfarfromperfectinhouseholdmethodsandeconomy,andherlittledeviationsonthisscorefirstcaughthiseye.Not,however,beforeherregulardemandforherallowancebecameagrievousthing.Sittingaroundashedid,theweeksseemedtopassveryquickly.EveryTuesdayCarrieaskedforhermoney.

“Doyouthinkweliveascheaplyaswemight.”heaskedoneTuesdaymorning.

“IdothebestIcan,”saidCarrie.

Nothingwasaddedtothisatthemoment,butthenextdayhesaid:

“DoyouevergototheGansevoortMarketoverhere.”

“Ididn’tknowtherewassuchamarket,”saidCarrie.

“Theysayyoucangetthingslotscheaperthere.”

Carriewasveryindifferenttothesuggestion.Thesewerethingswhichshedidnotlikeatall.

“Howmuchdoyoupayforapoundofmeat.”heaskedoneday.

“Oh,therearedifferentprices,”saidCarrie.“Sirloinsteakistwenty-twocents.”

“That’ssteep,isn’tit.”heanswered.

Soheaskedaboutotherthings,untilfinally,with

thepassingdays,itseemedtobecomeamaniawithhim.Helearnedthepricesandrememberedthem.Hiserrand-runningcapacityalsoimproved.Itbeganinasmallway,ofcourse.Carrie,goingtogetherhatonemorning,wasstoppedbyhim.

“Whereareyougoing,Carrie.”heasked.

“Overtothebaker’s,”sheanswered.

“I’djustasleavegoforyou,”hesaid.

Sheacquiesced,andhewent.Eachafternoonhewouldgotothecornerforthepapers.

“Isthereanythingyouwant.”hewouldsay.

Bydegreesshebegantousehim.Doingthis,however,shelosttheweeklypaymentoftwelvedollars.

“Youwanttopaymeto-day,”shesaidoneTuesday,aboutthistime.

“Howmuch.”heasked.

Sheunderstoodwellenoughwhatitmeant.

“Well,aboutfivedollars,”sheanswered.“Iowethecoalman.”

Thesamedayhesaid:

“IthinkthisItalianuphereonthecornersellscoalattwenty-fivecentsabushel.I’lltradewithhim.”

Carrieheardthiswithindifference.

“Allright,”shesaid.

Thenitcametobe:

“George,Imusthavesomecoalto-day,”or,“Youmustgetsomemeatofsomekindfordinner.”

Hewouldfindoutwhatsheneededandorder.

Accompanyingthisplancameskimpiness.

“Ionlygotahalf-poundofsteak,”hesaid,cominginoneafternoonwithhispapers.“Weneverseemtoeatverymuch.”

ThesemiserabledetailsatetheheartoutofCarrie.Theyblackenedherdaysandgrievedhersoul.Oh,howthismanhadchanged!Alldayandallday,herehesat,readinghispapers.Theworldseemedtohavenoattraction.Onceinawhilehewouldgoout,infineweather,itmightbefourorfivehours,betweenelevenandfour.Shecoulddonothingbutviewhimwithgnawingcontempt.

ItwasapathywithHurstwood,resultingfromhisinabilitytoseehiswayout.Eachmonthdrewfromhissmallstore.Now,hehadonlyfivehundreddollarsleft,andthishehugged,halffeelingasifhecouldstaveoffabsolutenecessityforanindefiniteperiod.Sittingaroundthehouse,hedecidedtowearsomeoldclotheshehad.Thiscamefirstwiththebaddays.Onlyonceheapologizedintheverybeginning:

“It’ssobadto-day,I’lljustwearthesearound.”Eventuallythesebecamethepermanentthing.

Also,hehadbeenwonttopayfifteencentsforashave,andatipoftencents.Inhisfirstdistress,hecutdownthetiptofive,thentonothing.Later,hetriedaten-centbarbershop,and,findingthattheshavewassatisfactory,patronizedregularly.Laterstill,heputoffshavingtoeveryotherday,thentoeverythird,andsoon,untilonceaweekbecametherule.OnSaturdayhewasasighttosee.

Ofcourse,ashisownself-respectvanished,itperishedforhiminCarrie.Shecouldnotunderstandwhathadgottenintotheman.Hehadsomemoney,hehadadecentsuitremaining,hewasnotbadlookingwhendressedup.ShedidnotforgetherowndifficultstruggleinChicago,butshedidnotforgeteitherthatshehadneverceasedtrying.Henevertried.Hedidnotevenconsulttheadsinthepapersanymore.

Finally,adistinctimpressionescapedfromher.

“Whatmakesyouputsomuchbutteronthesteak.”heaskedheroneevening,standingaroundinthekitchen.

“Tomakeitgood,ofcourse,”sheanswered.

“Butterisawfuldearthesedays,”hesuggested.

“Youwouldn’tminditifyouwereworking,”sheanswered.

Heshutupafterthis,andwentintohispaper,but

theretortrankledinhismind.Itwasthefirstcuttingremarkthathadcomefromher.

Thatsameevening,Carrie,afterreading,wentofftothefrontroomtobed.Thiswasunusual.WhenHurstwooddecidedtogo,heretired,asusual,withoutalight.ItwasthenthathediscoveredCarrie’sabsence.

“That’sfunny,”hesaid;“maybeshe’ssittingup.”

Hegavethematternomorethought,butslept.Inthemorningshewasnotbesidehim.Strangetosay,thispassedwithoutcomment.

Nightapproaching,andaslightlymoreconversationalfeelingprevailing,Carriesaid:

“IthinkI’llsleepaloneto-night.Ihaveaheadache.”

“Allright,”saidHurstwood.

Thethirdnightshewenttoherfrontbedwithoutapologies.

ThiswasagrimblowtoHurstwood,buthenevermentionedit.

“Allright,”hesaidtohimself,withanirrepressiblefrown,“lethersleepalone.”