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以下歐美電影榜英文介紹
Theodore Dreiser. Sister Carrie.
afternoon with his papers.」We never seem to eat very much.」
These miserable details ate the heart out of Carrie. They
blackened her days and grieved her soul. Oh, how this man
had changed! All day and all day, here he sat, reading his
papers. The world seemed to have no attraction. Once in a
while he would go out, in fine weather, it might be four or
five hours, between eleven and four. She could do nothing
but view him with gnawing contempt.
It was apathy with Hurstwood, resulting from his inability to see his way out. Each month drew from his small store.
Now, he had only five hundred dollars left, and this he hugged,
half feeling as if he could stave off absolute necessity for an
indefinite period. Sitting around the house, he decided to
wear some old clothes he had. This came first with the bad
days. Only once he apologized in the very beginning:
「It’s so bad to-day, I』ll just wear these around.」 Eventually
these became the permanent thing.
Also, he had been wont to pay fifteen cents for a shave,
and a tip of ten cents. In his first distress, he cut down the tip
to five, then to nothing. Later, he tried a ten-cent barber shop,
and, finding that the shave was satisfactory, patronized regularly. Later still, he put off shaving to every other day, then to
every third, and so on, until once a week became the rule. On
Saturday he was a sight to see.
Of course, as his own self-respect vanished, it perished for
him in Carrie. She could not understand what had gotten
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489
into the man. He had some money, he had a decent suit remaining, he was not bad looking when dressed up. She did
not forget her own difficult struggle in Chicago, but she did
not forget either that she had never ceased trying. He never
tried. He did not even consult the ads in the papers any more.
Finally, a distinct impression escaped from her.
「What makes you put so much butter on the steak?」 he
asked her one evening, standing around in the kitchen.
「To make it good, of course,」 she answered.
「Butter is awful dear these days,」 he suggested.
「You wouldn’t mind it if you were working,」 she answered.
He shut up after this, and went in to his paper, but the
retort rankled in his mind. It was the first cutting remark that
had come from her.
That same evening, Carrie, after reading, went off to the
front room to bed. This was unusual. When Hurstwood decided to go, he retired, as usual, without a light. It was then
that he discovered Carrie’s absence.
「That’s funny,」 he said; 「maybe she’s sitting up.」
He gave the matter no more thought, but slept. In the
morning she was not beside him. Strange to say, this passed
without comment.
Night approaching, and a slightly more conversational feeling prevailing, Carrie said:
「I think I』ll sleep alone to-night. I have a headache.」
「All right,」 said Hurstwood.
490
Theodore Dreiser. Sister Carrie.
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491
The third night she went to her front bed without apologies.
This was a grim blow to Hurstwood, but he never mentioned it.
「All right,」 he said to himself, with an irrepressible
frown,」let her sleep alone.」
Chapter 36.
Contents
A grim retrogression—the phantom of chance.
The Vances, who had been back in the city ever since
Christmas, had not forgotten Carrie; but they, or rather Mrs.
Vance, had never called on her, for the very simple reason that
Carrie had never sent her address. True to her nature, she
corresponded with Mrs. Vance as long as she still lived in
Seventy-eighth Street, but when she was compelled to move
into Thirteenth, her fear that the latter would take it as an
"Oh! Jim! Look back! Look back! See if we are pursued!" cried Nell frequently, with many a earful glance into the dense thickets.
The Indian took a straight course through the woods. He leaped the
brooks, climbed the rough ridges, and swiftly trod the glades that were
free of windfalls. His hurry and utter disregard for the plain trail left behind, proved his belief in the necessity of placing many miles between
the fugitives and the Village of Peace. Evidently they would be followed,
and it would be a waste of valuable time to try to conceal their trail.
Gradually the ground began to rise, the way become more difficult, but
Wingenund never slackened his pace. Nell was strong, supple, and light
of foot. She held her own with Jim, but time and time again they were
obliged to wait for her uncle. Once he was far behind. Wingenund halted
for them at the height of a ridge where the forest was open.
"Ugh!" exclaimed the chieftain, as they finished the ascent. He
stretched a long arm toward the sun; his falcon eye gleamed.
Far in the west a great black and yellow cloud of smoke rolled heavenward. It seemed to rise from out the forest, and to hang low over the
trees; then it soared aloft and grew thinner until it lost its distinct line far
in the clouds. The setting sun stood yet an hour high over a distant hill,
and burned dark red through the great pall of smoke.
"Is it a forest fire?" asked Nell, fearfully.
215
"Fire, of course, but—" Jim did not voice his fear; he looked closely at
Wingenund.
The chieftain stood silent a moment as was his wont when addressed.
The dull glow of the sun was reflected in the dark eyes that gazed far
away over forest and field.
"Fire," said Wingenund, and it seemed that as he spoke a sterner shadow flitted across his bronzed face. "The sun sets to-night over the ashes
of the Village of Peace.
He resumed his rapid march eastward. With never a backward glance
the saddened party followed. Nell kept close beside Jim, and the old man
tramped after them with bowed head. The sun set, but Wingenund never
slackened his stride. Twilight deepened, yet he kept on.
"Indian, we can go no further to-night, we must rest," cried Jim, as Nell
stumbled against him, and Mr. Wells panted wearily in the rear.
"Rest soon," replied the chief, and kept on.
Darkness had settled down when Wingenund at last halted. The fugitives could see little in the gloom, but they heard the music of running
water, and felt soft moss beneath their feet.
They sank wearily down upon a projecting stone. The moss was restful to their tired limbs. Opening the pack they found food with which to
satisfy the demands of hunger. Then, close under the stone, the fugitives
sank into slumber while the watchful Indian stood silent and motionless.
Jim thought he had but just closed his eyes when he felt a gentle pressure on his arm.
"Day is here," said the Indian.
Jim opened his eyes to see the bright red sun crimsoning the eastern
hills, and streaming gloriously over the colored forests. He raised himself on his elbow to look around. Nell was still asleep. The blanket was
tucked close to her chin. Her chestnut hair was tumbled like a
schoolgirl's; she looked as fresh and sweet as the morning.
"Nell, Nell, wake up," said Jim, thinking the while how he would love
to kiss those white eyelids.
Nell's eyes opened wide; a smile lay deep in their hazel shadows.
"Where a I? Oh, I remember," she cried, sitting up. "Oh, Jim, I had such
a sweet dream. I was at home with mother and Kate. Oh, to wake and
find it all a dream! I am fleeing for life. But, Jim, we are safe, are we not?"
"Another day, and we'll be safe."
216
"Let us fly," she cried, leaping up and shaking out her crumpled skirt.
"Uncle, come!"
Mr. Wells lay quietly with his mild blue eyes smiling up at her. He
neither moved nor spoke.
"Eat, drink," said the chief, opening the pack.
"What a beautiful place," exclaimed Nell, taking the bread and meat
handed to her. "This is a lovely little glade. Look at those golden flowers,
the red and purple leaves, the brown shining moss, and those lichencovered stones. Why! Some one has camped here. See the little cave, the
screens of plaited ferns, and the stone fireplace."
"It seems to me this dark spring and those gracefully spreading
branches are familiar," said Jim.
"Beautiful Spring," interposed Wingenund.
"Yes, I know this place," cried Nell excitedly. "I remember this glade
though it was moonlight when I saw it. Here Wetzel rescued me from
Girty."
"Nell, you're right," replied Jim. "How strange we should run across
this place again."
Strange fate, indeed, which had brought them again to Beautiful
Spring! It was destined that the great scenes of their lives were to be enacted in this mossy glade.
"Come, uncle, you are lazy," cried Nell, a touch of her old roguishness
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