Main Street (Barnes & Noble Classics Ser - Sinclair Lewis [198]
“You don’t suppose Valborg could actually think about making love to me?”
Her rather cheap sport ended abruptly as Vida cried, with contorted face, “What do you know about the thoughts in hearts? You just play at reforming the world. You don’t know what it means to suffer.”
There are two insults which no human being will endure: The assertion that he hasn’t a sense of humor, and the doubly impertinent assertion that he has never known trouble. Carol said furiously, “You think I don’t suffer? You think I’ve always had an easy—”
“No, you don’t. I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told a living soul, not even Ray.” The dam of repressed imagination which Vida had builded for years, which now, with Raymie off at the wars, she was building again, gave way. “I was—I liked Will terribly well. One time at a party—oh, before he met you, of course—but we held hands, and we were so happy. But I didn’t feel I was really suited to him. I let him go. Please don’t think I still love him! I see now that Ray was predestined to be my mate. But because I liked him, I know how sincere and pure and noble Will is, and his thoughts never straying from the path of rectitude, and——If I gave him to you, at least you’ve got to appreciate him! We danced together and laughed so, and I gave him up, but——This is my affair. I’m not intruding! I see the whole thing as he does, because of all I’ve told you. Maybe it’s shameless to bare my heart this way, but I do it for him—for him and you!”
Carol understood that Vida believed herself to have recited minutely and brazenly a story of intimate love; understood that, in alarm, she was trying to cover her shame as she struggled on, “Liked him in the most honorable way—simply can’t help it if I still see things through his eyes———If I gave him up, I certainly am not beyond my rights in demanding that you take care to avoid even the appearance of evil and—” She was weeping; an insignificant, flushed, ungracefully weeping woman.
Carol could not endure it. She ran to Vida, kissed her forehead, comforted her with a murmur of dove-like sounds, sought to reassure her with worn and hastily assembled gifts of words: “Oh, I appreciate it so much,” and “You are so fine and splendid,” and “Let me assure you there isn’t a thing to what you’ve heard,” and “Oh, indeed, I do know how sincere Will is, and as you say, so—so sincere.”
Vida believed that she had explained many deep and devious matters. She came out of her hysteria like a sparrow shaking off rain-drops. She sat up, and took advantage of her victory:
“I don’t want to rub it in, but you can see for yourself now, this is all a result of your being so discontented and not appreciating the dear good people here. And another thing: People like you and me, who want to reform things, have to be particularly careful about appearances. Think how much better you can criticize conventional customs if you yourself live up to them, scrupulously. Then people can’t say you’re attacking them to excuse your own infractions.”
To Carol was given a sudden great philosophical understanding, an explanation of half the cautious reforms in history. “Yes. I’ve heard that plea. It’s a good one. It sets revolts aside to cool. It keeps strays in the flock. To word it differently: ‘You must live up to the popular code if you believe in it; but if you don’t believe in it, then you must live up to it!’ ”
“I don’t think so at all,” said Vida vaguely. She began to look hurt, and Carol let her be oracular.
III
Vida had done her a service; had made all agonizing seem so fatuous that she ceased writhing and saw that her whole problem was simple as mutton: she was interested in Erik’s aspiration; interest gave her a hesitating fondness for him; and the future would take care of the event.... But at night, thinking in bed, she protested, “I’m not a falsely accused innocent, though! If it were some one more resolute than Erik, a fighter, an artist with bearded surly lips