第14章 嘉莉妹妹 (1)

　　Sister Carrie

　　嘉莉是个俊俏的农村姑娘，她羡慕大都市的物质

　　生活，便来到了芝加哥谋生。严酷的现实破碎了她的

　　美梦，迎接她的是失业和疾病。在走投无路时，她做

　　了推销员德鲁埃的情妇，后来由于更大的欲望又做了

　　酒店经理赫斯渥的情妇。与赫斯渥私奔后，在纽约由

　　于偶然的机会她成了走红一时的演员，挤上了上流社

　　会，实现了她的幻想。然而，所谓的“上流社会生活”

　　又给她带来了什么呢？她感到空虚，找不到生活的真

　　正意义，在寂寞和凄凉中，她坐在摇椅里梦想着那终

　　不可得的幸福。

　　[ 美] 西奥多·德莱塞（ Theodore Dreiser）

　　嘉莉妹妹

　　In the light of the world’s attitude toward woman and her

　　duties，the nature of Carrie’s mental state deserves consideration.

　　Actions such as hers are measured by an arbitrary scale. Society

　　possesses a conventional standard whereby it judges all things.

　　All men should be good，all women virtuous. Wherefore，villain，

　　hast thou failed?

　　For all the liberal analysis of Spencer and our modern

　　naturalistic philosophers，we have but an infantile perception of

　　morals. There is more in the subject than mere conformity to a

　　law of evolution. It is yet deeper than conformity to things of earth

　　alone. It is more involved than we，as yet，perceive. Answer，first，

　　why the heart thrills ；explain wherefore some plaintive note goes

　　wandering about the world，undying ；make clear the rose’s subtle

　　alchemy evolving its ruddy lamp in light and rain. In the essence

　　of these facts lie the first principles of morals.

　　“Oh，”thought Drouet，“how delicious is my conquest.”

　　“Ah，”thought Carrie，with mournful misgivings，“what is it I

　　have lost?”

　　Before this world — old proposition we stand，serious，

　　interested，confused ；endeavouring to evolve the true theory of

　　morals — the true answer to what is right.

　　In the view of a certain stratum of society，Carrie was

　　comfortably established— in the eyes of the starveling，beaten

　　by every wind and gusty sheet of rain，she was safe in a halcyon

　　harbour.

　　Drouet had taken three rooms，furnished，in Ogden Place，

　　facing Union Park，on the West Side. That was a little，greencarpeted

　　breathing spot，than which，today，there is nothing more

　　Beautiful in Chicago. It afforded a vista pleasant to contemplate.

　　The best room looked out upon the lawn of the park，now sear

　　and brown，where a little lake lay sheltered. Over the bare limbs

　　of the trees，which now swayed in the wintry wind，rose the

　　steeple of the Union Park Congregational Church，and far off the

　　towers of several others.

　　The rooms were comfortably enough furnished. There was

　　a good Brussels carpet on the floor，rich in dull red and lemon

　　shades，and representing large jardinieres filled with gorgeous，

　　impossible flowers. There was a large pier-glass mirror between

　　the two windows. A large，soft，green，plush-covered couch

　　occupied one corner，and several rocking-chairs were set about.

　　Some pictures，several rugs，a few small pieces of bric-a-brac，

　　and the tale of contents is told.

　　In the bedroom，off the front room，was Carrie’s trunk，bought

　　by Drouet，and in the wardrobe built into the wall quite an array

　　of clothing — more than she had ever possessed before，and of

　　very becoming designs. There was a third room for possible use

　　as a kitchen，where Drouet had Carrie establish a little portable

　　gas stove for the preparation of small lunches，oysters，Welsh

　　rarebits，and the like，of which he was exceedingly fond ；and，

　　lastly，a bath. The whole place was cosey，in that it was lighted

　　by gas and heated by furnace registers，possessing also a small

　　grate，set with an asbestos back，a method of cheerful warming

　　which was then first coming into use. By her industry and natural

　　love of order，which now developed，the place maintained an air

　　pleasing in the extreme.

　　Here，then，was Carrie，established in a pleasant fashion，

　　free of certain difficulties which most ominously confronted her，

　　laden with many new ones which were of a mental order，and

　　altogether so turned about in all of her earthly relationships that

　　she might well have been a new and different individual. She

　　looked into her glass and saw a prettier Carrie than she had seen

　　before ；she looked into her mind，a mirror prepared of her own

　　and the world’s opinions，and saw a worse. Between these two

　　images she wavered，hesitating which to believe.

　　“My，but you’re a little beauty，”Drouet was wont to exclaim

　　to her.She would look at him with large，pleased eyes.

　　“You know it，don’t you?” he would continue.

　　“Oh，I don’t know，”she would reply，feeling delight in the

　　fact that one should think so，hesitating to believe，though she

　　really did，that she was vain enough to think so much of herself.

　　Her conscience，however，was not a Drouet，interested to

　　praise. There she heard a different voice，with which she argued，

　　pleaded，excused. It was no just and sapient counsellor，in its

　　last analysis. It was only an average little conscience，a thing

　　which represented the world，her past environment，habit，

　　convention，in a confused way. With it，the voice of the people

　　was truly the voice of God.

　　“Oh，thou failure! ”said the voice.

　　“Why?”she questioned.

　　“Look at those about，”came the whispered answer.“ Look

　　at those who are good. How would they scorn to do what you

　　have done. Look at the good girls ；how will they draw away from

　　such as you when they know you have been weak. You had not

　　tried before you failed.”

　　It was when Carrie was alone，looking out across the park，

　　that she would be listening to this. It would come infrequently—

　　when something else did not interfere，when the pleasant

　　side was not too apparent，when Drouet was not there. It was

　　somewhat clear in utterance at first，but never wholly convincing.

　　There was always an answer，always the December days