An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

just too sweet for words? And the very kind of coat I’ve

been thinking of since I don’t know when. Oh, you pity

sing!” she exclaimed, affectedly, thinking all at once as

much of her own pose before the window and its effect on

An American Tragedy

154

the passer-by as of the coat before her. “Oh, if I could only

have ‘oo.”

She clapped her hands admiringly, while Isadore

Rubenstein, the elderly son of the proprietor, who was

standing somewhat out of the range of her gaze at the

moment, noted the gesture and her enthusiasm and

decided forthwith that the coat must be worth at least

twenty-five or fifty dollars more to her, anyhow, in case she

inquired for it. The firm had been offering it at one hundred.

“Oh, ha!” he grunted. But being of a sensual and somewhat

romantic turn, he also speculated to himself rather definitely

as to the probable trading value, affectionally speaking, of

such a coat. What, say, would the poverty and vanity of

such a pretty girl as this cause her to yield for such a coat?

In the meantime, however, Hortense, having gloated as

long as her noontime hour would permit, had gone away,

still dreaming and satiating her flaming vanity by thinking of

how devastating she would look in such a coat. But she had

not stopped to ask the price. Hence, the next day, feeling

that she must look at it once more, she returned, only this

time alone, and yet with no idea of being able to purchase it

herself. On the contrary, she was only vaguely revolving the

problem of how, assuming that the coat was sufficiently low

in price, she could get it. At the moment she could think of

no one. But seeing the coat once more, and also seeing Mr.

Rubenstein, Jr., inside eyeing her in a most propitiatory and

genial manner, she finally ventured in.

“You like the coat, eh?” was Rubenstein’s ingratiating

comment as she opened the door. “Well, that shows you

have good taste, I’ll say. That’s one of the nobbiest little

coats we’ve ever had to show in this store yet. A real

beauty, that. And how it would look on such a beautiful girl

as you!” He took it out of the window and held it up. “I seen

An American Tragedy

155

you when you was looking at it yesterday.” A gleam of

greedy admiration was in his eye.

And noting this, and feeling that a remote and yet not

wholly unfriendly air would win her more consideration and

courtesy than a more intimate one, Hortense merely said,

“Yes?”

“Yes, indeed. And I said right away, there’s a girl that knows

a really swell coat when she sees it.”

The flattering unction soothed, in spite of herself.

“Look at that! Look at that!” went on Mr. Rubinstein, turning

the coat about and holding it before her. “Where in Kansas

City will you find anything to equal that to-day? Look at this

silk lining here—genuine Mallinson silk—and these slant

pockets. And the buttons. You think those things don’t

make a different-looking coat? There ain’t another one like

it in Kansas City to-day—not one. And there won’t be. We

designed it ourselves and we never repeat our models. We

protect our customers. But come back here.” (He led the

way to a triple mirror at the back.) “It takes the right person

to wear a coat like this—to get the best effect out of it. Let

me try it on you.”

And by the artificial light Hortense was now privileged to

see how really fetching she did look in it. She cocked her

head and twisted and turned and buried one small ear in

the fur, while Mr. Rubenstein stood by, eyeing her with not

a little admiration and almost rubbing his hands.

“There now,” he continued. “Look at that. What do you say

to that, eh? Didn’t I tell you it was the very thing for you? A

find for you. A pick-up. You’ll never get another coat like

that in this city. If you do, I’ll make you a present of this

one.” He came very near, extending his plump hands,

palms up.

An American Tragedy

156

“Well, I must say it does look smart on me,” commented

Hortense, her vainglorious soul yearning for it. “I can wear

anything like this, though.” She twisted and turned the

more, forgetting him entirely and the effect her interest

would have on his cost price. Then she added: “How much

is it?”

“Well, it’s really a two-hundred-dollar coat,” began Mr.

Rubenstein artfully. Then noting a shadow of

relinquishment pass swiftly over Hortense’s face, he added

quickly: “That sounds like a lot of money, but of course we

don’t ask so much for it down here. One hundred and fifty is

our price. But if that coat was at Jarek’s, that’s what you’d

pay for it and more. We haven’t got the location here and

we don’t have to pay the high rents. But it’s worth every

cent of two hundred.”

“Why, I think that’s a terrible price to ask for it, just awful,”

exclaimed Hortense sadly, beginning to remove the coat.

She was feeling as though life were depriving her of nearly

all that was worth while. “Why, at Biggs and Beck’s they

have lots of three-quarter mink and beaver coats for that

much, and classy styles, too.”

“Maybe, maybe. But not that coat,” insisted Mr. Rubenstein

stubbornly. “Just look at it again. Look at the collar. You

mean to say you can find a coat like that up there? If you

can, I’ll buy the coat for you and sell it to you again for a

hundred dollars. Actually, this is a special coat. It’s copied

from one of the smartest coats that was in New York last

summer before the season opened. It has class. You won’t

find no coat like this coat.”

“Oh, well, just the same, a hundred and fifty dollars is more

than I can pay,” commented Hortense dolefully, at the same

An American Tragedy

157

time slipping on her old broadcloth jacket with the fur collar

and cuffs, and edging toward the door.

“Wait! You like the coat?” wisely observed Mr. Rubenstein,

after deciding that even a hundred dollars was too much for

her purse, unless it could be supplemented by some man’s.

“It’s really a two-hundred-dollar coat. I’m telling you that

straight. Our regular price is one hundred and fifty. But if

you could bring me a hundred and twenty-five dollars, since

you want it so much, well, I’ll let you have it for that. And

that’s like finding it. A stunning-looking girl like you oughtn’t

to have no trouble in finding a dozen fellows who would be

glad to buy that coat and give it to you. I know I would, if I

thought you would be nice to me.”

He beamed ingratiatingly up at her, and Hortense, sensing

the nature of the overture and resenting it—from him—drew

back slightly. At the same time she was not wholly

displeased by the compliment involved. But she was not

coarse enough, as yet, to feel that just any one should be

allowed to give her anything. Indeed not. It must be some

one she liked, or at least some one that was enslaved by

her.

And yet, even as Mr. Rubenstein spoke, and for some time

afterwards, her mind began running upon possible

individuals—favorites—who, by the necromancy of her

charm for them, might be induced to procure this coat for

her. Charlie Wilkens for instance—he of the Orphia cigar

store—who was most certainly devoted to her after his

fashion, but a fashion, however, which did not suggest that

he might do much for her without getting a good deal in

return.

And then there was Robert Kain, another youth—very tall,

very cheerful and very ambitious in regard to her, who was

connected with one of the local electric company’s branch

An American Tragedy

158

offices, but his position was not sufficiently lucrative—a

mere entry clerk. Also he was too saving—always talking

about his future.

And again, there was Bert Gettler, the youth who had

escorted her to the dance the night Clyde first met her, but

who was little more than a giddy-headed dancing soul, one

not to be relied upon in a crisis like this. He was only a shoe

salesman, probably twenty dollars a week, and most careful

with his pennies.

But there was Clyde Griffiths, the person who seemed to

have real money and to be willing to spend it on her freely.

So ran her thoughts swiftly at the time. But could she now,

she asked herself, offhand, inveigle him into making such

an expensive present as this? She had not favored him so

very much—had for the most part treated him indifferently.

Hence she was not sure, by any means. Nevertheless as

she stood there, debating the cost and the beauty of the