 Chapter 46 of Sister Carrie. This is a LibraVox recording. All LibraVox recordings are in the public domain. For information or to volunteer, please visit LibraVox.org. Recording by Andrea Deans. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreischer. Chapter 46 Stirring Troubled Waters. Playing in New York one evening upon this her return, Carrie was putting the finishing touches to her toilet before leaving for the night. When a commotion near the stage door caught her ear, it included a familiar voice. Never mind now, I want to see Miss Modunda. You'll have to send in your card. Oh, come off here. A half dollar was passed over and now a knock came in her dressing room door. Carrie opened it. Well, well, said Druitt. I do swear. Why, how are you? I knew that was you the moment I saw you. Carrie fell back apace, expecting a most embarrassing conversation. Aren't you going to shake hands with me? Well, you're a dandy. That's all right. Shake hands. Carrie put out her hand, smiling, if for nothing more than the man's exuberant good nature. Though older, he was but slightly changed. The same fine clothes, the same stocky body, the same rosy countenance. That fellow at the door didn't want to let me in until I paid him. I knew it was you all right. Say, you've got a great show. You do your part fine. I knew you would. I just happened to be passing tonight and thought I'd drop in for a few minutes. I saw your name on the program, but I didn't remember it until you came on stage. Then it struck me all at once. Say, you could have knocked me down with a feather. That's the same name you used out there in Chicago, isn't it? Yes, answered Carrie, mildly, overwhelmed by the man's assurance. I knew it was the moment I saw you. Well, how have you been anyhow? Oh, very well, said Carrie, lingering in her dressing room. She was rather dazed by the assault. How have you been? Me? Oh, fine. I'm here now. Is there so, said Carrie? Yes, I've been here for six months. I've got charge of a branch here. How nice. Well, when did you go on the stage anyhow, inquired Roulette? About three years ago, said Carrie. You don't say. Well, sir, this is the first I've heard of it. I knew you would though. I always said you could act, didn't I? Carrie smiled. Yes, you did, she said. Well, you do look great, he said. I never saw anyone improve, so you're taller, aren't you? Me? Oh, a little maybe. He gazed at her dress, then at her hair, where a becoming hat was set jauntily, then into her eyes, which she took all occasion to avert. Evidently, he expected to restore their old friendship at once and without modification. Well, he said, seeing her gather up her purse, handkerchief and the like, preparatory to departing. I want you to come out tonight with me, won't you? I've got a friend out here. Oh, I can't, said Carrie. Not tonight. I have an early engagement tomorrow. Aw, let the engagement go. Come on. I can get rid of him. I want to have a good talk with you. No, no, said Carrie. I can't. You mustn't ask me any more. I don't care for a late dinner. Well, come on and have a talk, then, anyhow. Not tonight, she said, shaking her head. We'll have a talk some other time. As a result of this, she noticed a shade of thought pass over his face, as if he were beginning to realize that things were changed. Good nature dictated something better than this for one who had always liked her. You come around to the hotel tomorrow, she said, as sort of penance for error. You can take dinner with me. All right, said Druitt, brightening. Where are you stopping? At the Waldorf, she answered, mentioning the fashionable hostility. Then, but newly erected. What time? Well, come at three, said Carrie pleasantly. The next day, Druitt called, but it was with no special delight that Carrie remembered her appointment. However, seeing him, handsome as ever, after his kind, and most genially disposed, her doubts as to whether the dinner would be disagreeable were swept away. He talked as voluble as ever. They put on a lot of lugs here, don't they, was his first remark. Yes, they do, said Carrie. Genial ego test that he was. He went at once into a detailed account of his own career. I'm going to have a business of my own pretty soon, he observed in one place. I can get backing for $200,000. Carrie listened, most good-naturedly. Say, he said suddenly. Where is Hearstwood now? Carrie flushed a little. He's here in New York, I guess, she said. I haven't seen him for some time. Druitt mused for a moment. He had not been sure until now that the ex-manager was not an influential figure in the background. He imagined not, but this assurance relieved him. It must be that Carrie had got rid of him, as well she ought, he thought. A man always makes a mistake when he does anything like that, he observed. Like what, said Carrie, unwitting of what was coming. Oh, you know, said Druitt, waving her intelligence, as it were, with his hand. No, I don't, she answered. What do you mean? Why, they had a fair in Chicago, the time he left. I don't know what you're talking about, said Carrie. Could it be he would refer so rudely to Hearstwood's flight with her? Oh ho, said Druitt, incredulously. You knew he took $10,000 with him when he left, didn't you? What, said Carrie? You don't mean he stole the money, do you? Why, said Druitt, puzzled at her tone. You knew that, didn't you? Why, no, said Carrie, of course I didn't. Well, that's funny, said Druitt. He did, you know. It was in all the papers. How much did you say he took, said Carrie? $10,000. I heard he sent most of it back afterwards, though. Carrie looked vacantly at the richly carpeted floor. A new light was shining upon all the years since her enforced flight. She remembered now a hundred things that indicated as much. She also imagined that he took it on her account. Instead of hatred springing up, there was a kind of sorrow generated. Poor fellow, what a thing to have had hanging over his head all the time. At dinner, Druitt, warned by eating and drinking and softened in mood, fancied he was winning Carrie to her old-time, good-natured regard for him. He began to imagine it would not be so difficult to enter into her life again, high as she was. What a prize, he thought. How beautiful, how elegant, how famous, in her theatrical and Waldorf setting, Carrie was to him the all-desirable. Do you remember how nervous you were that night at the Avery, he asked? Carrie smiled to think of it. I never saw anybody do better than you, dead cad, he added ruefully, as he leaned an elbow on the table. I thought you and I were going to get along fine those days. You mustn't talk that way, said Carrie, bringing in the least touch of coldness. Won't you let me tell you? No, she answered, rising. Besides, it's time I was getting ready for the theater. I'll have to leave you now. Come now. Oh, stay a minute, pleaded Druitt. You've got plenty of time. No, said Carrie gently. Reluctantly, Druitt gave up the bright table and followed. I saw her to the elevator, and standing there, said, When do I see you again? Oh, sometime possibly, said Carrie. I'll be here all summer. Good night. The elevator door was open. Good night, said Druitt, as she rustled in. Then he strolled sadly down the hall, all his old longing revived, because she was now so far off. He thought himself hardly dealt with. Carrie, however, had other thoughts. That night it was that she passed Hearstwood, waiting at the casino, without observing him. The next night, walking to the theater, she encountered him face to face. He was waiting, more gaunt than ever, determined to see her, if he had to send in word. At first, she did not recognize the shabby, biggy figure. He frightened her, edging so close, a seemingly hungry stranger. Carrie, he half whispered, can I have a few words with you? She turned and recognized him on the instant. If there ever lurked any feeling in her heart against him, it deserted her now. Still, she remembered what Druitt said about his having stolen the money. Why, George, she said, what's the matter with you? I've been sick, he answered. I just got out of the hospital. For God's sakes, let me have a little money, will you? Of course, said Carrie. Her lip trembling in a strong effort to maintain her composure. But what's the matter with you, anyhow? She was opening her purse and now pulled out all the bills in it. A five and two twos. I've been sick, I told you, he said, peevishly, almost resenting her excessive pity. It came hard to him to receive it from such a source. Here, she said, it's all I have with me. All right, he answered softly. I'll give it back to you some day. Carrie looked at him while pedestrian stared at her. She felt the strain of publicity. So did Hearstwood. Why don't you tell me what's the matter with you? She asked, hardly knowing what to do. Where are you living? Oh, I've got a room down in the bowery, he answered. There's no use trying to tell you here. I'm all right now. He seemed in a way to resent her kindly inquiries. So much better had fate dealt with her. Better go on, Annie said. I'm much obliged, but I won't bother you anymore. She tried to answer, but he turned away and shuffled off toward the east. For days this apparition was a drag on her soul before it began to wear partially away. Druett called again, but now he was not even seen by her. His attention seemed out of place. I'm out, was her reply to the boy. So peculiar indeed was her lonely, self-withdrawing temper that she was becoming an interesting figure in the public eye. She was so quiet and reserved. Not long after the management decided to transfer the show to London, a second summer season did not seem to promise well here. How would you like to try subduing London, asked her manager one afternoon? It might be just the other way, said Cary. I think we'll go in June, he answered. In the hurry of departure, Hurstwood was forgotten, both he and Druett were left to discover that she was gone. The latter called once and exclaimed at the news. Then he stood in the lobby, chewing the ends of his mustache. At last he reached a conclusion. The old days had gone for good. She isn't so much, he said, but in his heart of hearts he did not believe this. Hurstwood shifted by curious means through a long summer and fall. A small job as janitor of a dance hall helped him for a month. Begging, sometimes going hungry, sometimes sleeping in the park, carried him over more days. Resorting to those peculiar charities, several of which in the press of Hungry Search, he accidentally stumbled upon, did the rest. Towards the dead of winter, Cary came back, appearing on Broadway in a new play, but he was not aware of it. For weeks he wandered about the city, begging, while the fire sign announcing her engagement blazed nightly upon the crowded street of amusements. Drew it sod, but did not venture in. About this time Ames returned to New York. He had made a little success in the West and now opened a laboratory in Wooster Street. Of course he encountered Cary through Mrs. Vance, but there was nothing responsive between them. He thought she was still united to Hurstwood until otherwise informed. Not knowing the facts then, he did not profess to understand and refrained from comment. With Mrs. Vance, he saw the new play and expressed himself accordingly. She ought not to be in comedy, he said. I think she could do better than that. One afternoon they met at the Vance's accidentally and began a very friendly conversation. She could hardly tell why the one-time keen interest in him was no longer with her. Unquestionably it was because at that time he had represented something which she did not have, but this she did not understand. Success had given her the momentary feeling that she was now blessed with much of which he would approve. As a matter of fact, her little newspaper fame was nothing at all to him. He thought she could have done better, by far. You didn't go into comedy drama after all, he said, remembering her interest in that form of art. No, she answered, I haven't so far. He looked at her in such a peculiar way that she realized she had failed. It moved her to add, I want to, though. I should think you would, he said. You have the sort of disposition that would do well in comedy drama. It surprised her that he should speak of disposition. Was she then so clearly in his mind? Why, she asked. Well, he said, I should judge you were rather sympathetic in your nature. Very smiled and colored slightly. He was so innocently frank with her that she drew near in friendship. The old call of the ideal was sounding. I don't know, she answered, please, nevertheless, beyond all concealment. I saw your play, he remarked. It's very good. I'm glad you liked it. Very good indeed, he said, for a comedy. This is all that was said at the time, owing to an interruption. But later they met again. He was sitting in a corner after dinner, staring at the floor, when Carrie came up with another of the guests. Hard work had given his face the look of one who was weary. It was not for Carrie to know the thing in it which appealed to her. All alone, she said. I was listening to music. I'll be back in a moment, said her companion, who saw nothing in the inventor. No, he looked up in her face, for she was standing a moment while he sat. Isn't that a pathetic strain, he inquired, listening? Oh, very, she returned, also catching it, now that her attention was called. Sit down, he added, offering her the chair beside him. They listened a few moments in silence, touched by the same feeling. Only hers reached her through the heart. Music still charmed her as in the old days. I don't know what it is about music, she started to say, moved by the inexplicable longings which surged within her, but it always makes me feel as if I wanted something. I, yes, he replied. I know how you feel. Suddenly he turned to considering the peculiarity of her disposition, expressing her feelings so frankly. You ought not to be melancholy, he said. He thought awhile, and then went off into a seemingly alien observation, which, however, accorded with their feelings. The world is full of desirable situations, but unfortunately we can occupy about one at a time. It doesn't do us any good to wring our hands over the far off things. The music ceased and he arose, taking a standing position before her, as if to rest himself. Why don't you get into some good, strong comedy drama, he said. He was looking directly at her now, studying her face. Her large, sympathetic eyes and pain-touched mouth appealed to him as proofs of his judgment. Perhaps I shall, she returned. That's your field, he added. Do you think so? Yes, he said. I do. I don't suppose you're aware of it, but there's something about your eyes and your mouth which fits you for that sort of work. Carrie thrilled to be taken so seriously. For the moment, loneliness deserted her. He was praise, which was keen and analytical. It's in your eyes and mouth, he went on, abstractedly. I remember thinking, the first time I saw you, that there was something peculiar about your mouth. I thought you were about to cry. How odd, said Carrie, warm with delight. This was what her heart craved. Then I noticed that there was your natural look and tonight I saw it again. There's a shadow about your eyes, too, which gives your face much the same character. It's in the depth of them, I think. Carrie looked straight into his face, wholly aroused. You're probably not aware of it, he added. She looked away, pleased that he should speak thus, longing to be equal to this feeling written upon her countenance. It unlocked the door to a new desire. She had caused a ponder over this until they met again, several weeks or more. It showed her she was drifting away from the old ideal, which filled her in the dressing rooms of the Avery stage and thereafter for a long time. Why had she lost it? I know why you should be a success, he said another time. If you hid a more dramatic part, I studied it out. What is it, said Carrie. Well, he said, as one pleased with a puzzle, that expression in your face is one that comes out in different things. You get the same thing in a pathetic song or any picture which moves you deeply. It's the thing the world likes to see, because it's a natural expression of its longing. Carrie gazed without exactly getting the import of what he met. The world is always struggling to express itself, he went on. Most people are not capable of voicing their feelings. They depend upon others. That is what genius is for. One man expresses their desires for them in music, another one in poetry, another one in a play. Sometimes nature does it in a face and makes the face representative of all desire. That's what has happened in your fake case. He looked at her with so much of the import of the thing in his eyes that she caught it. Sometimes she got the idea that her look was something which represented the world's longing. She took it to heart as a credible thing until he added, that puts a burden of duty on you. It so happens that you have this thing. It is no credit to you. That is, I mean, you might not have had it. You paid nothing to get it. But now that you have it, you must do something with it. What? asked Carrie. I should say, turn to the dramatic field. You have so much sympathy and such a melodious voice. Make them valuable to others. It will make your powers endure. Carrie did not understand this last. All her comedy success was little or nothing. What do you mean? She asked. Well, just this. You have this quality in your eyes and mouth and in your nature. You can lose it, you know. If you turn away from it and live to satisfy yourself alone, it will go fast enough. The look will leave your eyes. Your mouth will change. Your power to act will disappear. You may think they won't, but they will. Nature takes care of that. He was so interested in forwarding all good causes that he sometimes became enthusiastic, giving vent to these preachments. Something in Carrie appealed to him. He wanted to stir her up. I know, she said absently, feeling slightly guilty of neglect. If I were you, he said, I'd change. The effect of this was like rolling helpless waters. Carrie troubled over it in a rocking chair for days. I don't believe I'll stay in comedy so very much longer. She eventually remarked to Lola. So why not, said the latter. I think, she said, I can do better in a serious play. What put that idea in your head? Oh, nothing, she answered. I've always thought so. Still, she did nothing, grieving. It was a long way to do this better thing, or seem so, and comfort was about her, hence the inactivity and longing. End of chapter 46, recording by Andrea Deans. Chapter 47 of Sister Carrie. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Andrea Deans. Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser. Chapter 47, The Way of the Beaten, A Harp in the Wind. In the city at that time, there were a number of charities similar in nature to that of the Captains, which Hearst would now patronize in a like unfortunate way. One was a convent mission house of the Sisters of Mercy in 15th Street, a row of red brick family dwellings before the door of which hung a plain wooden contribution box, on which was painted the statement that every noon a meal was given free to all those who might apply and ask for aid. This simple announcement was modest in the extreme, covering, as it did, charity so broad. Institutions and charities were so large and so numerous New York, that such things as this are not often noticed by the more comfortably situated, but to those whose mind is upon the matter, they grow exceedingly under inspection. Unless one were looking up this matter in particular, he could have stood at Sixth Avenue and 15th Street for days around the noon hour and never have noticed that out of the vast crowd surged along that busy thoroughfare, there turned out, every few seconds, some weather-beaten, heavy-footed specimen of humanity gaunt in countenance and dilapidated in the manner of clothes. The fact is nonetheless true, however, and the colder the day, the more apparent it became. Space and a lack of culinary room in the mission house compelled an arrangement which permitted only 25 or 30 eating at one time so that a line had to be formed outside and an orderly entrance affected. This caused a daily spectacle, which, however, had become so common by repetition during a number of years that now nothing was thought of it. The men waited patiently like cattle in the coldest weather, waited for several hours before they could be admitted. No questions were asked and no service rendered. They ate and went away again, some of them returning regularly, day after day, the winter through. A big motherly woman invariably stood guard at the door during the entire operation and counted the admissible number. The men moved up in solemn order. There was no haste and no eagerness displayed. It was almost a dumb procession. In the bitterest weather, this line was to be found here. Under an icy wind, there was a prodigious slapping of hands and a dancing of feet. Fingers and the features of the face looked as if severely nipped by the cold. A study of these men in broad light proved them to be nearly all of a type. They belonged to the class that sit on the park benches during the indurable days and sleep upon them during the summer nights. They frequent the bowery and those down at the heels east side streets, where poor clothes and shrunken features are not singled out as curious. They are the men who are in the lodging house sitting rooms during bleak and bitter weather and who swarm about the cheaper shelters, which only open at six in a number of the lower east side streets. Miserable food, ill-timed and greedily eaten, had played havoc with bone and muscle. They were all pale, flabby, sunken eyed, hollow-chested, with eyes that glinted and shone and lips that were a sickly red by contrast. Their hair was but half attended to, their ears anemic in hue and their shoes broken in leather and run down at heel and toe. They were of the class which simply floats and drifts, every wave of people washing up one, as breakers do driftwood upon a stormy shore. For nearly a quarter of a century in another section of the city, Fleischman the baker had given a loaf of bread to anyone who would come for it to the side door of his restaurant at the corner of Broadway and 10th Street at Midnight. Every night during 20 years about 300 men had formed in line and at the appointed time, marched past the doorway, picked their loaf from a great box placed just outside and vanished again into the night. From the beginning to the present time there had been little change in the character or number of these men. There were two or three figures that had grown familiar to those who had seen this little procession pass year after year. Two of them had scarcely missed a night in 15 years. There were about 40 more or less regular collars. The remainder of the line was formed as strangers. In times of panic and unusual hardships there were seldom more than 300. In times of prosperity when little is heard of the unemployed there were seldom less. The same number, winter and summer in storm or calm in good times and bad held this melancholy midnight rendezvous at Fleischman's bread box. At both of these two charities during the severe winter which was now on Hurstwood was a frequent visitor. On one occasion it was peculiarly cold and finding no comfort in begging about the streets. He waited until noon before seeking this free offering to the poor. Already at 11 o'clock of this morning several such as he had shambled forward out of 6th Avenue their thin clothes flapping and fluttering in the wind. They leaned against the iron railing which protects the walls of the 9th Regiment Armory which fronts upon that section of 15th Street having come early to be first in. Having an hour to wait they at first lingered at a respectful distance but others coming up they moved closer in order to protect their right of precedence. To this collection Hurstwood came up from the west out of 7th Avenue and stopped close to the door near than all the others. Those who had been waiting before him farther away now drew near and by a certain stolidity of demeanor no words being spoken indicated that they were first. Seeing the opposition to his action he looked sullenly along the line then moved out taking his place at the foot. When order had been restored the animal feeling of opposition relaxed must be pretty near noon ventured one. It is said another I've been waiting nearly an hour gee but it's cold they peered eagerly at the door or almost enter. A grocery man drove up and carried in several baskets of eatables this started some words upon grocery men and the cost of food in general I see meats gone up said one if there was war it would help this country a lot. The line was growing rapidly already there were 50 or more and those at the head by their demeanor evidently congratulated themselves upon not having so long to wait as those at the foot. There was much jerking of heads looking down the line. It don't matter how near you get to the front so long as you're in the first 25 commented one of the first 25 you all go in together hmmm ejaculated Hearstwood who had been so sturdily displaced this here single tax is the thing said another there ain't going to be no order till it comes for the most part there was silence got men shuffling glancing and beating their arms at last the door opened and the motherly looking sister appeared she only looked in order slowly the line moved up and one by one passed in until 25 were counted then she interposed a stout arm and the line halted with six men on the steps of these the ex manager was one waiting thus some talked some ejaculated concerning the misery of it some brooded as did Hearstwood at last he was admitted and having eaten came away almost angered because of his pains in getting in and 11 o'clock of another evening perhaps two weeks later he was at the midnight offering of a loaf waiting patiently it had been an unfortunate day with him but now he took his fate with a touch of philosophy if he could secure no supper or was hungry late in the evening here was a place he could come a few minutes before 12 a great box of bread was pushed out and exactly on the hour a portly round-faced German took position by it calling ready the whole line at once moved forward each taking his loaf in turn and going his separate way on this occasion the ex manager ate his as he went plotting the dark streets in silence to his bed by January he had concluded that the game was up with him life had always seemed a precious thing but now constant want and weakened vitality had made the charms of earth rather dull and inconspicuous several times when fortune-pressed most harshly he thought he would end his troubles but with a change of weather or the arrival of a quarter or a dime his mood with change and he would wait each day he would find some old paper lying about and look into it to see if there was any trace of carry but all summer and fall he had looked in vain then he noticed that his eyes were beginning to hurt him and this ailment rapidly increased until in the dark chambers of lodgings he frequented he did not attempt to read bad and irregular eating was weakening every function of his body the one recourse left him was to doze when the place offered and he could get the money to occupy it he was beginning to find in his wretched clothing and meager state of body that people took him for a chronic type of bomb and beggar police bustled him along restaurant and lodging housekeepers turned him out promptly the moment he had his due pedestrians waved him off he found it more and more difficult to get anything from anybody at last he admitted to himself that the game was up it was after a long series of appeals to pedestrians in which he had been refused and refused everyone hastening from contact give me a little something will you mister he said to the last one for God's sake do I'm starving ah get out said the man who happened to be a common type himself you're no good I'll give you nothing Hearst would put his hands red from cold down in his pockets tears came to his eyes that's right he said I'm no good now I was all right I had money I'm going to quit this and with death in his heart he started down toward the bowery people had turned on the gas before and died why shouldn't he he remembered the lodging house where there were little close rooms with gas jets in them almost prearranged he thought for what he wanted to do which rented for 15 cents then he remembered he had no 15 cents on the way he meant a comfortable looking gentleman coming clean shaven out of a fine barber shop would you mind giving me a little something he asked the man boldly the gentleman looked him over and fished for a dime nothing but quarters were in his pocket here he said handing him one to be rid of him be off now Hearst would moved on wondering the side of the large bright coin pleased him a little he remembered that he was hungry and that he could get a bed for 10 cents with this the idea of death passed for the time being out of his mind it was only when he could get nothing but insults the death seemed worthwhile one day in the middle of winter the sharpest bell of the season set in it broke gray and cold in the first day and on the second snowed poor luck pursuing him he had secured but 10 cents by nightfall and this he had bad spent for food at evening he found himself at the boulevard and 67th street where he finally turns his face bowery word especially fatigued because of the wandering propensity which had seized him in the morning he now half dragged his wet feet shuffling the souls upon the sidewalk an old thin coat was turned up about his ready years his cracked derby hair was pulled down till it turned them outward his hands were in his pockets I'll just go down Broadway he said to himself when he reached 42nd street the fire signs were already blazing brightly crowds were hastening to dying through bright windows at every corner might be seeing gay companies in luxurious restaurants there were coaches and crowded cable cars in this weary and hungry state he should never have come here the contrast was too sharp even he was recalled keenly to better things what's the use he thought it's all up with me I'll quit this people turned to look at him so uncouth was his shambling figure several officers followed him with their eyes to see that he did not beg of anybody once he paused in an aimless incoherent sort of way and looked through the windows of an imposing restaurant before which blazed a fire sign and through the large plate windows of which could be seen the red and gold decorations the palms, the white nappery the shining glassware and above all the comfortable crowd weak as his mind had become his hunger was sharp enough to show the importance of this he stopped stock still his frayed trousers soaking in the slush and peered foolishly in eat he mumbled that's right, eat nobody else wants any then his voice dropped even lower and his mind half lost the fancy it had it's mighty cold, he said awful cold at Broadway in 39th Street was blazing an incandescent fire Carrie's name Carrie Madenda at Red and the Casino Company all the wet snowy sidewalk was bright with this radiated fire it was so bright that it attracted Hearstwood's gaze he looked up and then at a large guilt-framed poster board on which was a fine lithograph of Carrie life size Hearstwood gazed at it a moment snuffling and hunching one shoulder as if something were scratching him he was so rend down, however that his mind was not exactly clear that's you, he said at last, addressing her wasn't good enough for you, was I, huh? he lingered, trying to think logically this was no longer possible with him she's got it, he said incoherently thinking of money let her give me some he started around to the side door then he forgot what he was going for and paused pushing his hands deeper to warm the wrists suddenly it returned the staged door that was it he approached that entrance and went in well, said the attendant, staring at him seeing him pause he went over and shoved him get out of here, he said I want to see Miss Modenda, he said you do, eh? the other said almost tickled at the spectacle get out of here and you shoved him again Hearstwood had no strength to resist I want to see Miss Modenda, he tried to explain even as he was being hustled away I'm alright, I the man gave him a last push and closed the door as he did so, Hearstwood slipped and fell in the snow it hurt him and some vague sense of shame returned he began to cry and swear foolishly God damn dog, he said damned old curd wiping the slush from his worthless coat I, I hired people such as you once now a fierce feeling against Carrie well dump just one fierce angry thought before the whole thing slipped out of his mind she owes me something to eat, he said she owes it to me hopelessly he turned back into Broadway again and slapped onward in a way begging, crying, losing track of his thoughts one after another as a mind decayed and disjointed his want to do it was a truly wintry evening a few days later his one distinct mental decision was reached already at four o'clock the somber hue of night was thickening the air a heavy snow was falling a fine picking whipping snow born forward by a swift wind in long thin lines the streets were bedded with it six inches of cold soft carpet churned to a dirty brown by the crush of teams and the feet of men along Broadway men picked their way in allsters and umbrellas along the bowery men slouched through it with collars and hats pulled over their ears in the former thoroughfare businessmen and travelers were making for comfortable hotels in the latter crowds on cold errands shifted past dingy stores in the deep recesses of which lights were already gleaming there were early lights in the cable cars whose usual clatter was reduced by the mantle around the wheels the whole city was muffled by this fast thickening mantle in her comfortable chambers at the Waldorf Carrie was reading at the time Pierre Couriette which Ames had recommended to her it was so strong and Ames mere recommendation had so aroused her interest that she caught nearly the full sympathetic significance of it for the first time it was being born in upon her how silly and worthless had been her earlier reading as a whole becoming weary however she yawned and came to the window looking out upon the old winding procession of carriages winding up Fifth Avenue isn't it bad she observed to Lola terrible said that little lady joining her I hope it snows enough to go sleigh riding oh dear said Carrie with whom the sufferings of Father Garriott were still keen that's all you think of aren't you sorry for the people who haven't anything tonight of course I am said Lola but what can I do I haven't anything Carrie smiled you wouldn't care if you had she returned I would too said Lola but people never gave me anything when I was hard up isn't that just awful said Carrie studying the winter storm look at that man over there left Lola who had caught sight of someone falling down how sheepish men look when they fall don't they we'll have to take a coach tonight answered Carrie absently in the lobby of the Imperial Mr. Charles Druitt was just arriving shaking the snow from a very handsome allster bad weather had driven him home early and stirred his desire for those pleasures which shut out the snow in the gloom of life a good dinner the company of a young woman and an evening at the theater were the chief things for him why hello Harry he said addressing a lounger in one of the comfortable lobby chairs how are you oh about six and six said the other rotten weather isn't it well I should say said the other I've been just sitting here thinking where I'd go tonight come along with me said Druitt I can introduce you to some dead swell who is it said the other oh a couple girls over here in 40th Street we could have a dandy time I was just looking for you supposing we could get them and take them out to dinner sure said Druitt well I go upstairs and change my clothes well I'll be in the barbershop said the other I want to get a shave alright said Druitt creaking off in his good shoes toward the elevator the old butterfly was as light on the wing as ever on an incoming vestibuled Pullman speeding at 40 miles an hour through the snow of the evening were three others all related first call for dinner in the dining car a Pullman servitor was announcing as he hastened through the aisle in snow white apron and jacket I don't believe I want to play anymore said the youngest a dark-haired beauty turned supercellist by fortune as she pushed a yuker hand away from her shall we go into dinner inquired her husband who is all that fine raiment can make oh not yet she answered I don't want to play anymore though Jessica said her mother who was also a study in what good clothing can do for age push that pin down in your tie it's coming up Jessica obeyed incidentally touching and her lovely hair and looking at a little jewel-faced watch her husband studied her for beauty even cold is fascinating from one point of view well we won't have much more of this weather he said it only takes two weeks to get to Rome Mrs. Hurst would nestled comfortably in her corner and smiled it was so nice to be the mother-in-law of a rich young man one whose financial state had borne her personal inspection do you suppose the boat will sail promptly asked Jessica if it keeps up like this oh yes answered her husband it won't make any difference passing down the aisle came a very fair-haired banker's son also of Chicago who had long eyed the supercellist beauty even now he did not hesitate to glance at her and she was conscious of it with a specially conjured show of indifference she turned her pretty face wholly away it was not wifely modesty at all by so much was her pride satisfied at this moment Hurstwood stood before a dirty four-story building in a side street quite near the Bowery whose one-time coat of boff had been changed by soot and rain he mingled with a crowd of men a crowd of which had been and was still growing by degrees it began with the approach of two or three who hung around the closed wooden doors and beat their feet to keep warm they had on faded derby hats with dents in them their misfit coats were heavy with melded snow and turned up at the collars their trousers were mere bags frayed at the bottom and wobbly over big soppy shoes tarned the sides and worn almost to shreds they made no effort to go in but shifted ruefully about digging their hands deep in their packets and leering at the crowd in the increasing lamps with the minutes increased the number three were old men with grizzled beards and sunken eyes men who were comparatively young and shrunken by diseases men who were middle-aged none were fat there was a face in the thick of the collection which was as white as drained veal there was another red as a brick some came with thin rounded shoulders others with wooden legs still others with frames so lean that clothes only flapped about them there were great ears swollen noses thick lips and above all red bloodshot eyes not a normal healthy face in the whole mess not a straight figure not a straightforward steady glance in the drive of the wind and sleet they pushed in on one another there were wrists unprotected by coat or pocket which were red with cold there were ears half covered by every conceivable semblance of a half which still looked stiff and bitten in the snow they shifted now one foot now another almost rocking in unison with the growth of the crowd about the door came a murmur it was not conversation but a running comet directed at anyone in general it contained ults and slang phrases by damn I wish they'd hurry up look at the copper watching maybe it ain't wind or another I wished I wasn't sing-sing now was a sharper lash of wind cut down and they huddled closer it was an edging, shifting, pushing throng there was no anger, no pleading no threatening words it was all solemn endurance enlightened by either wit or good fellowship a carriage went jingling by with some reclining figure in it one of the men nearest the door saw it look at the bloke riding he ain't so cold ay ay ay yelled another the carriage having long since passed out of hearing little by little the night crept on along the walk a crowd turned out on its way home men and shop girls went by with quick steps the crosstown cars began to be crowded the gas lamps were blazing and every window bloomed ready with a steady flame still the crowd hung around the door unwavering ain't they ever going to open up queried a horse voice suggestively this seemed to renew the general interest in the closed door and many gazed in that direction they looked at it as dumb brutes look as dogs paw and whine and study the knob they shifted and blinked and muttered now a curse now a comment still they waited and still the snow whirled and cut them with biting flakes on old hats and peak shoulders it was piling it gathered in little heaps and curves and no one brushed it off in the center of the crowd the warmth and steam melded it and water trickled off hat rims and down noses which the owners could not reach to scratch on the outer rim the piles remained unmelted Hearstwood who could not get in the center stood with head lowered to the weather and Bendis form a light appeared through the transom overhead it sent a thrill of possibility through the watchers there was a murmur of recognition at last the bars graded inside and the crowd picked up its ears footsteps shuffled within and it murmured again someone called slow up there now and then the door opened it was push and jam for a minute with grim beast silence to prove its quality and then it melted inward like logs floating and disappeared there were wet hats and wet shoulders a cold shrunken disgruntled mass pouring in between bleak walls it was just six o'clock and there was supper in every hurry pedestrian's face and yet no supper was provided here nothing but beds Hearstwood laid down his 15 cents and crept up with weary steps to his allotted room it was a dingy affair wooden dusty hard a small gas jet furnished sufficient light for so rueful a corner hmm he said clearing his throat and locking the door now he began leisurely to take off his clothes but stopped first with his coat and tucked it along the crack under the door his vest he arranged in the same place his old wet cracked hat he laid softly upon the table then he pulled off his shoes and lay down it seemed as if he thought a while for now he arose and turned the gas out standing calmly in the blackness hidden from view after a few moments in which he reviewed nothing but merely hesitated he turned the gas on again but applied no match even then he stood there hidden holy in that kindness which is night while the uprising fumes filled the room when the odor reached his nostrils he quit his attitude and fumbled for his bed what's the use he said weekly as he stretched himself to rest and now Cary had attained that which in the beginning seemed life's object or at least such fraction of it as human beings ever attain of their original desires she could look bow on her gowns and carriage her furniture and bank accounts friends there were, as the world takes it those who would bow and smile in acknowledgement of her success for these she had once craved applause there was and publicity once far off essential things but now grown trivial and indifferent beauty also her type of loveliness and yet she was lonely in her rocking chair she sat but not otherwise engaged singing and dreaming thus in life is ever the intellectual and the emotional nature the mind that reasons and the mind that feels of one comes the men of action generals and statesmen of the other the poets and dreamers artists all as harps in the wind the latter respond to every breath of fancy voicing in their moods all the ebb and flow of the ideal man has not yet comprehended the dreamer any more than he has the ideal for him the laws and morals of the world are unduly severe ever hearkening to the sound of beauty straining for the flash of its distant wings he watches to follow wearing his feet and traveling so watched Carrie so followed rocking and singing and it must be remembered that reason had little part in this Chicago dawning she saw the city offering more of loveliness than she had ever known and instinctively by force of her moods alone to it in fine raiment and elegant surroundings men seemed to be contended hence she drew near these things Chicago, New York, Druitt, Hurstwood the world of fashion and the world of stage these were but incidents not them but that which they represented she longed for time proved the representation false oh the tangle of human life how dimly as yet we see here was Carrie in the beginning poor unsophisticated emotional responding with desire to everything most lovely in life yet finding herself turned as by a wall laws to say be a lord if you will buy everything lovely but draw not nigh unless by righteousness convention to say you shall not better your situation save by honest labor if honest labor be unremovable and difficult to endure if it be the long long road which never reaches beauty but weirs the feet and the heart if the drake to follow beauty be such that one abandons the admired way taking rather the despised path leading to her dreams quickly who shall cast the first stone not evil but longing for that which is better more often directs the steps of the airing not evil but goodness more often allures the feeling mind unused to reason amid the tinsel and shine of her state walked Carrie unhappy as when druid took her she had thought now I am lifted into that which is best as when Hearst would seemingly offered her the better way now I am happy but since the world goes its way past all those who will not partake of its folly she now found herself alone her purse was open to him whose need was greatest in her walks on Broadway she no longer thought of the elegance of the creatures who passed her had they more of that peace and beauty that glimmered a fire off than they were to be envied druid abandoned his claim and was seen no more of Hearst would's death she was not even aware a slow black boat setting out from the pier at 27th street upon its weekly air and bore with many others his nameless body to the potter's field thus passed all that was of interest concerning these twain in their relationship to her their influence upon her life is explicable alone by the nature of her longings time was when both represented for her all that was most potent earthly success they were the personal representatives of a state most blessed to attain the titled ambassadors of comfort and peace a glow with their credentials it is but natural that when the world which they represented no longer allured her its ambassadors should be discredited even had Hearst would returned in his original beauty and glory he could not now have allured her she had learned that in his world as in her own present state was not happiness sitting alone she was now an illustration of the devious ways by which one who feels rather than reasons may be led in the pursuit of beauty though often disillusioned she was still waiting for the healthy on day when she should be led forth among dreams become real aims had pointed out a farther step but on and on beyond that if accomplished would lie others for her it was forever to be the pursuit of that radiance of delight which tense the distant hilltops of the world O carry carry O blind strivings of the human heart onward onward at saith and where beauty leads there it follows whether it be the tinkle of a lone sheep bell or some quiet landscape or the glimmer of beauty in silven places or the show of soul in some passing eye the heart knows and makes answer following it is when the feet weary and hope seems vain that the heartaches and the longings arise know then that for you is neither surfeit nor content in your rocking chair by your window dreaming shall you long alone in your rocking chair by your window shall you dream such happiness as you may never feel the end end of chapter 47 recording by Andrea Deans and of Sister Carry by Theodore Dreischer