An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser

in some form a claim on her part to some consideration

from him in the future which it might not be so easy for him

to ignore? For after all he was the aggressor—not she. And

because of this, and whatever might follow in connection

with it, might not she be in a position to demand more from

him than he might be willing to give? For was it his intention

to marry her? In the back of his mind there lurked

something which even now assured him that he would

never desire to marry her—could not in the face of his high

family connections here. Therefore should he proceed to

demand—or should he not? And if he did, could he avoid

that which would preclude any claim in the future?

He did not thus so distinctly voice his inmost feelings to

himself, but relatively of such was their nature. Yet so great

was the temperamental and physical enticement of Roberta

that in spite of a warning nudge or mood that seemed to

hint that it was dangerous for him to persist in his demand,

he kept saying to himself that unless she would permit him

to her room, he would not have anything more to do with

her, the desire for her being all but overpowering.

This contest which every primary union between the sexes,

whether with or without marriage implies, was fought out

the next day in the factory. And yet without a word on either

side. For Clyde, although he considered himself to be

deeply in love with Roberta, was still not so deeply involved

but that a naturally selfish and ambitious and seeking

disposition would in this instance stand its ground and

master any impulse. And he was determined to take the

attitude of one who had been injured and was determined

not to be friends any more or yield in any way unless some

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concession on her part, such as would appease him, was

made.

And in consequence he came into the stamping department

that morning with the face and air of one who was vastly

preoccupied with matters which had little, if anything, to do

with what had occurred the night before. Yet, being far from

certain that this attitude on his part was likely to lead to

anything but defeat, he was inwardly depressed and awry.

For, after all, the sight of Roberta, freshly arrived, and

although pale and distrait, as charming and energetic as

ever, was not calculated to assure him of any immediate or

even ultimate victory. And knowing her as well as he

thought he did, by now, he was but weakly sustained by the

thought that she might yield.

He looked at her repeatedly when she was not looking. And

when in turn she looked at him repeatedly, but only at first

when he was not looking, later when she felt satisfied that

his eyes, whether directly bent on her or not, must be

encompassing her, still no trace of recognition could she

extract. And now to her bitter disappointment, not only did

he choose to ignore her, but quite for the first time since

they had been so interested in each other, he professed to

pay, if not exactly conspicuous at least noticeable and

intentional attention to those other girls who were always so

interested in him and who always, as she had been

constantly imagining, were but waiting for any slight

overture on his part, to yield themselves to him in any way

that he might dictate.

Now he was looking over the shoulder of Ruza Nikoforitch,

her plump face with its snub nose and weak chin turned

engagingly toward him, and he commenting on something

not particularly connected with the work in hand apparently,

for both were idly smiling. Again, in a little while, he was by

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the side of Martha Bordaloue, her plump French shoulders

and arms bare to the pits next to his. And for all her fleshy

solidity and decidedly foreign flavor, there was still enough

about her which most men would like. And with her Clyde

was attempting to jest, too.

And later it was Flora Brandt, the very sensuous and not

unpleasing American girl whom Roberta had seen Clyde

cultivating from time to time. Yet, even so, she had never

been willing to believe that he might become interested in

any of these. Not Clyde, surely.

And yet he could not see her at all now—could not find time

to say a single word, although all these pleasant words and

gay looks for all these others. Oh, how bitter! Oh, how

cruel! And how utterly she despised those other girls with

their oglings and their open attempts to take him from her.

Oh, how terrible. Surely he must be very opposed to her

now—otherwise he could not do this, and especially after all

that had been between them—the love—the kisses.

The hours dragged for both, and with as much poignance

for Clyde as for Roberta. For his was a feverish, urgent

disposition where his dreams were concerned, and could ill

brook the delay or disappointments that are the chief and

outstanding characteristics of the ambitions of men,

whatever their nature. He was tortured hourly by the

thought that he was to lose Roberta or that to win her back

he would have to succumb to her wishes.

And on her part she was torn, not so much by the question

as to whether she would have to yield in this matter (for by

now that was almost the least of her worries), but whether,

once so yielding, Clyde would be satisfied with just some

form of guarded social contact in the room—or not. And so

continue on the strength of that to be friends with her. For

more than this she would not grant—never. And yet—this

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suspense. The misery of his indifference. She could

scarcely endure it from minute to minute, let alone from

hour to hour, and finally in an agony of dissatisfaction with

herself at having brought all this on herself, she retired to

the rest room at about three in the afternoon and there with

the aid of a piece of paper found on the floor and a small bit

of pencil which she had, she composed a brief note:

“Please, Clyde, don’t be mad at me, will you? Please

don’t. Please look at me and speak to me, won’t you?

I’m so sorry about last night, really I am—terribly. And I

must see you to-night at the end of Elm Street at 8:30 if

you can, will you? I have something to tell you. Please

do come. And please do look at me and tell me you

will, even though you are angry. You won’t be sorry. I

love you so. You know I do.

“Your sorrowful,

“ROBERTA.”

And in the spirit of one who is in agonized search for an

opiate, she folded up the paper and returning to the room,

drew close to Clyde’s desk. He was before it at the time,

bent over some slips. And quickly as she passed she

dropped the paper between his hands. He looked up

instantly, his dark eyes still hard at the moment with the

mingled pain and unrest and dissatisfaction and

determination that had been upon him all day, and noting

Roberta’s retreating figure as well as the note, he at once

relaxed, a wave of puzzled satisfaction as well as delight

instantly filled him. He opened it and read. And as instantly

his body was suffused with a warm and yet very weakening

ray.

And Roberta in turn, having reached her table and paused

to note if by any chance any one had observed her, now

looked cautiously about, a strained and nervous look in her

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eyes. But seeing Clyde looking directly at her, his eyes filled

with a conquering and yet yielding light and a smile upon

his lips, and his head nodding a happy assent, she as

suddenly experienced a dizzying sensation, as though her

hitherto constricted blood, detained by a constricted heart

and constricted nerves, were as suddenly set free. And all

the dry marshes and cracked and parched banks of her soul

—the dry rivulets and streams and lakes of misery that

seemed to dot her being—were as instantly flooded with

this rich upwelling force of life and love.

He would meet her. They would meet to-night. He would

put his arms abound her and kiss her as before. She would

be able to look in his eyes. They would not quarrel any more

—oh, never if she could help it.

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Chapter 22

THE wonder and, delight of a new and more intimate form

of contact, of protest gainsaid, of scruples overcome! Days,

when both, having struggled in vain against the greater

intimacy which each knew that the other was desirous of

yielding to, and eventually so yielding, looked forward to the