Such feelings as were generated in Carrie by this walk put her in an exceedingly receptive mood for the pathos which followed in the play. The actor whom they had gone to see had achieved his popularity by presenting a mellow type of comedy, in which sufficient sorrow was introduced to lend contrast and relief to humour. For Carrie, as we well know, the stage had a great attraction. She had never forgotten her one histrionic achievement in Chicago. It dwelt in her mind and occupied her consciousness during many long afternoons in which her rocking-chair and her latest novel contributed the only pleasures of her state. Never could she witness a play without having her own ability vividly brought to consciousness. Some scenes made her long to be a part of them -- to give expression to the feelings which she, in the place of the character represented, would feel. Almost invariably she would carry the vivid imaginations away with her and brood over them the next day alone. She lived as much in these things as in the realities which made up her daily life.
It was not often that she came to the play stirred to her heart's core by actualities. To-day a low song of longing had been set singing in her heart by the finery, the merriment, the beauty she had seen. Oh, these women who had passed her by, hundreds and hundreds strong, who were they? Whence came the rich, elegant dresses, the astonishingly coloured buttons, the knick-knacks of silver and gold? Where were these lovely creatures housed? Amid what elegancies of carved furniture, decorated walls, elaborate tapestries did they move? Where were their rich apartments, loaded with all that money could provide? In what stables champed these sleek, nervous horses and rested the gorgeous carriages? Where lounged the richly groomed footmen? Oh, the mansions, the lights, the perfume, the loaded boudoirs and tables！ New York must be filled with such bowers, or the beautiful, insolent, supercilious creatures could not be. Some hot-houses held them. It ached her to know that she was not one of them -- that, alas, she had dreamed a dream and it had not come true. She wondered at her own solitude these two years past -- her indifference to the fact that she had never achieved what she had expected.
The play was one of those drawing-room concoctions in which charmingly overdressed ladies and gentlemen suffer the pangs of love and jealousy amid gilded surroundings. Such bon-mots are ever enticing to those who have all their days longed for such material surroundings and have never had them gratified. They have the charm of showing suffering under ideal conditions. Who would not grieve upon a gilded chair? Who would not suffer amid perfumed tapestries, cushioned furniture, and liveried servants? Grief under such circumstances becomes an enticing thing. Carrie longed to be of it. She wanted to take her sufferings, whatever they were, in such a world, or failing that, at least to simulate them under such charming conditions upon the stage. So affected was her mind by what she had seen, that the play now seemed an extraordinarily beautiful thing. She was soon lost in the world it represented, and wished that she might never return. Between the acts she studied the galaxy of matinee attendants in front rows and boxes, and conceived a new idea of the possibilities of New York. She was sure she had not seen it all -- that the city was one whirl of pleasure and delight.
Going out, the same Broadway taught her a sharper lesson. The scene she had witnessed coming down was now augmented and at its height. Such a crush of finery and folly she had never seen. It clinched her convictions concerning her state. She had not lived, could not lay claim to having lived, until something of this had come into her own life. Women were spending money like water; she could see that in every elegant shop she passed. Flowers, candy, jewelry, seemed the principal things in which the elegant dames were interested. And she had scarcely enough pin money to indulge in such outings as this a few times a month.
That night the pretty little flat seemed a commonplace thing. It was not what the rest of the world was enjoying. She saw the servant working at dinner with an indifferent eye. In her mind were running scenes of the play. Particularly she remembered one beautiful actress -- the sweetheart who had been wooed and won. The grace of this woman had won Carrie's heart. Her dresses had been all that art could suggest, her sufferings had been so real. The anguish which she had portrayed Carrie could feel. It was done as she was sure she could do it. There were places in which she could even do better. Hence she repeated the lines to herself. Oh, if she could only have such a part, how broad would be her life！ She, too, could act appealingly.
When Hurstwood came, Carrie was moody. She was sitting, rocking and thinking, and did not care to have her enticing imaginations broken in upon; so she said little or nothing.
"What's the matter, Carrie?" said Hurstwood after a time, noticing her quiet, almost moody state.
"Nothing," said Carrie. "I don't feel very well to-night."
"Not sick, are you?" he asked, approaching very close.
"Oh, no," she said, almost pettishly, "I just don't feel very good."
"That's too bad," he said, stepping away and adjusting his vest after his slight bending over. "I was thinking we might go to a show to-night."
"I don't want to go," said Carrie, annoyed that her fine visions should have thus been broken into and driven out of her mind. "I've been to the matinee this afternoon."
"Oh, you have?" said Hurstwood. "What was it?"
"A Gold Mine."
"How was it?"
"Pretty good," said Carrie.
"And you don't want to go again to-night?"
"I don't think I do," she said.
Nevertheless, wakened out of her melancholia and called to the dinner table, she changed her mind. A little food in the stomach does wonders. She went again, and in so doing temporarily recovered her equanimity. The great awakening blow had, however, been delivered. As often as she might recover from these discontented thoughts now, they would occur again. Time and repetition -- ah, the wonder of it！ The dropping water and the solid stone -- how utterly it yields at last！
Not long after this matinee experience -- perhaps a month -- Mrs. Vance invited Carrie to an evening at the theater with them. She heard Carrie say that Hurstwood was not coming home to dinner.
"Why don't you come with us? Don't get dinner for yourself. We're going down to Sherry's for dinner and then over to the Lyceum. Come along with us."
"I think I will," answered Carrie.
She began to dress at three o'clock for her departure at half-past five for the noted dining-room which was then crowding Delmonico's for position in society. In this dressing Carrie showed the influence of her association with the dashing Mrs. Vance. She had constantly had her attention called by the latter to novelties in everything which pertains to a woman's apparel.
"Are you going to get such and such a hat?" or, "Have you seen the new gloves with the oval pearl buttons?" were but sample phrases out of a large selection.
"The next time you get a pair of shoes, dearie," said Mrs. Vance, "get button, with thick soles and patent-leather tips. They're all the rage this fall."
"I will," said Carrie.
"Oh, dear, have you seen the new shirtwaists at Altman's? They have some of the loveliest patterns. I saw one there that I know would look stunning on you. I said so when I saw it."
Carrie listened to these things with considerable interest, for they were suggested with more of friendliness than is usually common between pretty women. Mrs. Vance liked Carrie's stable good-nature so well that she really took pleasure in suggesting to her the latest things.
"Why don't you get yourself one of those nice serge skirts they're selling at Lord & Taylor's?" she said one day. "They're the circular style, and they're going to be worn from now on. A dark blue one would look so nice on you."
Carrie listened with eager ears. These things never came up between her and Hurstwood. Nevertheless, she began to suggest one thing and another, which Hurstwood agreed to without any expression of opinion. He noticed the new tendency on Carrie's part, and finally, hearing much of Mrs. Vance and her delightful ways, suspected whence the change came. He was not inclined to offer the slightest objection so soon, but he felt that Carrie's wants were expanding. This did not appeal to him exactly, but he cared for her in his own way, and so the thing stood. Still, there was something in the details of the transactions which caused Carrie to feel that her requests were not a delight to him. He did not enthuse over the purchases. This led her to believe that neglect was creeping in, and so another small wedge was entered.
Nevertheless, one of the results of Mrs. Vance's suggestions was the fact that on this occasion Carrie was dressed somewhat to her own satisfaction. She had on her best, but there was comfort in the thought that if she must confine herself to a best, it was neat and fitting. She looked the well-groomed woman of twenty-one, and Mrs. Vance praised her, which brought colour to her plump cheeks and a noticeable brightness into her large eyes. It was threatening rain, and Mr. Vance, at his wife's request, had called a coach.
"Your husband isn't coming?" suggested Mr. Vance, as he met Carrie in his little parlour.
"No, he said he wouldn't be home for dinner."
"Better leave a little note for him, telling him where we are. He might turn up."
"I will," said Carrie, who had not thought of it before.
"Tell him we'll be at Sherry's until eight o'clock. He knows, though, I guess."
Carrie crossed the hall with rustling skirts, and scrawled the note, gloves on. When she returned a newcomer was in the Vance flat.
"Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce Mr. Ames, a cousin of mine," said Mrs. Vance. "He's going along with us, aren't you, Bob?"
"I'm very glad to meet you," said Ames, bowing politely to Carrie.
The latter caught in a glance the dimensions of a very stalwart figure. She also noticed that he was smooth-shaven, good looking, and young, but nothing more.
"Mr. Ames is just down in New York for a few days," put in Vance, "and we're trying to show him around a little."
"Oh, are you?" said Carrie, taking another glance at the newcomer.
"Yes; I am just on here from Indianapolis for a week or so," said young Ames, seating himself on the edge of a chair to wait while Mrs. Vance completed the last touches of her toilet.
"I guess you find New York quite a thing to see, don't you?" said Carrie, venturing something to avoid a possible deadly silence.
"It is rather large to get around in a week," answered Ames, pleasantly.
He was an exceedingly genial soul, this young man, and wholly free of affectation. It seemed to Carrie he was as yet only overcoming the last traces of the bashfulness of youth. He did not seem apt at conversation, but he had the merit of being well dressed and wholly courageous. Carrie felt as if it were not going to be hard to talk to him.
"Well, I guess we're ready now. The coach is outside."
"Come on, people," said Mrs. Vance, coming in smiling. "Bob, you'll have to look after Mrs. Wheeler."
"I'll try to," said Bob smiling, and edging closer to Carrie. "You won't need much watching, will you?" he volunteered, in a sort of ingratiating and help-me-out kind of way.
"Not very, I hope," said Carrie.
They descended the stairs, Mrs. Vance offering suggestions, and climbed into the open coach.
"All right," said Vance, slamming the coach door, and the conveyance rolled away.
"What is it we're going to see?" asked Ames.
"Sothern," said Vance, "in 'Lord Chumley.'"
"Oh, he is so good！" said Mrs. Vance. "He's just the funniest man."
"I notice the papers praise it," said Ames.
"I haven't any doubt," put in Vance, "but we'll all enjoy it very much."
Ames had taken a seat beside Carrie, and accordingly he felt it his bounden duty to pay her some attention. He was interested to find her so young a wife, and so pretty, though it was only a respectful interest. There was nothing of the dashing lady's man about him. He had respect for the married state, and thought only of some pretty marriageable girls in Indianapolis.
"Are you a born New Yorker?" asked Ames of Carrie.
"Oh, no; I've only been here for two years."
"Oh, well, you've had time to see a great deal of it, anyhow."
"I don't seem to have," answered Carrie. "It's about as strange to me as when I first came here."
"You're not from the West, are you?"
"Yes. I'm from Wisconsin," she answered.
"Well, it does seem as if most people in this town haven't been here so very long. I hear of lots of Indiana people in my line who are here."
"What is your line?" asked Carrie.
"I'm connected with an electrical company," said the youth.
Carrie followed up this desultory conversation with occasional interruptions from the Vances. Several times it became general and partially humorous, and in that manner the restaurant was reached.
Carrie had noticed the appearance of gayety and pleasure-seeking in the streets which they were following. Coaches were numerous, pedestrians many, and in Fifty-ninth Street the street cars were crowded. At Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue a blaze of lights from several new hotels which bordered the Plaza Square gave a suggestion of sumptuous hotel life. Fifth Avenue, the home of the wealthy, was noticeably crowded with carriages, and gentlemen in evening dress. At Sherry's an imposing doorman opened the coach door and helped them out. Young Ames held Carrie's elbow as he helped her up the steps. They entered the lobby already swarming with patrons, and then, after divesting themselves of their wraps, went into a sumptuous dining-room.
In all Carrie's experience she had never seen anything like this. In the whole time she had been in New York Hurstwood's modified state had not permitted his bringing her to such a place. There was an almost indescribable atmosphere about it which convinced the newcomer that this was the proper thing. Here was the place where the matter of expense limited the patrons to the moneyed or pleasure-loving class. Carrie had read of it often in the "Morning" and "Evening World." She had seen notices of dances, parties, balls, and suppers at Sherry's. The Misses So-and-so would give a party on Wednesday evening at Sherry's. Young Mr. So-and-so would entertain a party of friends at a private luncheon on the sixteenth, at Sherry's. The common run of conventional, perfunctory notices of the doings of society, which she could scarcely refrain from scanning each day, had given her a distinct idea of the gorgeousness and luxury of this wonderful temple of gastronomy. Now, at last, she was really in it. She had come up the imposing steps, guarded by the large and portly doorman. She had seen the lobby, guarded by another large and portly gentleman, and been waited upon by uniformed youths who took care of canes, overcoats, and the like. Here was the splendid dining-chamber, all decorated and aglow, where the wealthy ate. Ah, how fortunate was Mrs. Vance; young, beautiful, and well off -- at least, sufficiently so to come here in a coach. What a wonderful thing it was to be rich.
Vance led the way through lanes of shining tables, at which were seated parties of two, three, four, five, or six. The air of assurance and dignity about it all was exceedingly noticeable to the novitiate. Incandescent lights, the reflection of their glow in polished glasses, and the shine of gilt upon the walls, combined into one tone of light which it requires minutes of complacent observation to separate and take particular note of. The white shirt fronts of the gentlemen, the bright costumes of the ladies, diamonds, jewels, fine feathers -- all were exceedingly noticeable.
Carrie walked with an air equal to that of Mrs. Vance, and accepted the seat which the head waiter provided for her. She was keenly aware of all the little things that were done -- the little genuflections and attentions of the waiters and head waiter which Americans pay for. The air with which the latter pulled out each chair, and the wave of the hand with which he motioned them to be seated, were worth several dollars in themselves.
Once seated, there began that exhibition of showy, wasteful, and unwholesome gastronomy as practised by wealthy Americans, which is the wonder and astonishment of true culture and dignity the world over. The large bill of fare held an array of dishes sufficient to feed an army, sidelined with prices which made reasonable expenditure a ridiculous impossibility -- an order of soup a fifty cents or a dollar, with a dozen kinds to choose from; oysters in forty styles and at sixty cents the half-dozen; entrees, fish, and meats at prices which would house one over night in an average hotel. One dollar fifty and two dollars seemed to be the most common figures upon this most tastefully printed bill of fare.
Carrie noticed this, and in scanning it the price of spring chicken carried her back to that other bill of fare and far different occasion when, for the first time, she sat with Drouet in a good restaurant in Chicago. It was only momentary -- a sad note as out of an old song -- and then it was gone. But in that flash was seen the other Carrie -- poor, hungry, drifting at her wits' ends, and all Chicago a cold and closed world, from which she only wandered because she could not find work.
On the walls were designs in colour, square spots of robin's-egg blue, set in ornate frames of gilt, whose corners were elaborate mouldings of fruit and flowers, with fat cupids hovering in angelic comfort. On the ceilings were coloured traceries with more gilt, leading to a centre where spread a cluster of lights -- incandescent globes mingled with glittering prisms and stucco tendrils of gilt. The floor was of a reddish hue, waxed and polished, and in every direction were mirrors -- tall, brilliant, bevel-edged mirrors -- reflecting and re-reflecting forms, faces, and candelabra a score and a hundred times.
The tables were not so remarkable in themselves, and yet the imprint of Sherry upon the napery, the name of Tiffany upon the silverware, the name of Haviland upon the china, and over all the glow of the small, red-shaded candelabra and the reflected tints of the walls on garments and faces, made them seem remarkable. Each waiter added an air of exclusiveness and elegance by the manner in which he bowed, scraped, touched, and trifled with things. The exclusively personal attention which he devoted to each one, standing half bent, ear to one side, elbows akimbo, saying: "Soup -- green turtle, yes. One portion, yes. Oysters -- certainly -- half-dozen -- yes. Asparagus. Olives -- yes."
It would be the same with each one, only Vance essayed to order for all, inviting counsel and suggestions. Carrie studied the company with open eyes. So this was high life in New York. It was so that the rich spent their days and evenings. Her poor little mind could not rise above applying each scene to all society. Every fine lady must be in the crowd on Broadway in the afternoon, in the theatre at the matinee, in the coaches and dining-halls at night. It must be glow and shine everywhere, with coaches waiting, and footmen attending, and she was out of it all. In two long years she had never even been in such a place as this.
Vance was in his element here, as Hurstwood would have been in former days. He ordered freely of soup, oysters, roast meats, and side dishes, and had several bottles of wine brought, which were set down beside the table in a wicker basket.
Ames was looking away rather abstractedly at the crowd and showed an interesting profile to Carrie. His forehead was high, his nose rather large and strong, his chin moderately pleasing. He had a good, wide, well-shaped mouth, and his dark-brown hair was parted slightly on one side. He seemed to have the least touch of boyishness to Carrie, and yet he was a man full grown.
"Do you know," he said, turning back to Carrie, after his reflection, "I sometimes think it is a shame for people to spend so much money this way."
Carrie looked at him a moment with the faintest touch of surprise at his seriousness. He seemed to be thinking about something over which she had never pondered.
"Do you?" she answered, interestedly.
"Yes," he said, "they pay so much more than these things are worth. They put on so much show."
"I don't know why people shouldn't spend when they have it," said Mrs. Vance.
"It doesn't do any harm," said Vance, who was still studying the bill of fare, though he had ordered.
Ames was looking away again, and Carrie was again looking at his forehead. To her he seemed to be thinking about strange things. As he studied the crowd his eye was mild.
"Look at that woman's dress over there," he said, again turning to Carrie, and nodding in a direction.
"Where?" said Carrie, following his eyes.
"Over there in the corner -- way over. Do you see that brooch?"
"Isn't it large?" said Carrie.
"One of the largest clusters of jewels I have ever seen," said Ames.
"It is, isn't it?" said Carrie. She felt as if she would like to be agreeable to this young man, and also there came with it, or perhaps preceded it, the slightest shade of a feeling that he was better educated than she was -- that his mind was better. He seemed to look it, and the saving grace in Carrie was that she could understand that people could be wiser. She had seen a number of people in her life who reminded her of what she had vaguely come to think of as scholars. This strong young man beside her, with his clear, natural look, seemed to get a hold of things which she did not quite understand, but approved of. It was fine to be so, as a man, she thought.
The conversation changed to a book that was having its vogue at the time -- "Moulding a Maiden," by Albert Ross. Mrs. Vance had read it. Vance had seen it discussed in some of the papers.
"A man can make quite a strike writing a book," said Vance. "I notice this fellow Ross is very much talked about." He was looking at Carrie as he spoke.
"I hadn't heard of him," said Carrie, honestly.
"Oh, I have," said Mrs. Vance. "He's written lots of things. This last story is pretty good."
"He doesn't amount to much," said Ames.
Carrie turned her eyes toward him as to an oracle.
"His stuff is nearly as bad as 'Dora Thorne,'" concluded Ames.
Carrie felt this as a personal reproof. She read "Dora Thorne," or had a great deal in the past. It seemed only fair to her, but she supposed that people thought it very fine. Now this clear-eyed, fine-headed youth, who looked something like a student to her, made fun of it. It was poor to him, not worth reading. She looked down, and for the first time felt the pain of not understanding.
Yet there was nothing sarcastic or supercilious in the way Ames spoke. He had very little of that in him. Carrie felt that it was just kindly thought of a high order -- the right thing to think, and wondered what else was right, according to him. He seemed to notice that she listened and rather sympathised with him, and from now on he talked mostly to her.
As the waiter bowed and scraped about, felt the dishes to see if they were hot enough, brought spoons and forks, and did all those little attentive things calculated to impress the luxury of the situation upon the diner, Ames also leaned slightly to one side and told her of Indianapolis in an intelligent way. He really had a very bright mind, which was finding its chief development in electrical knowledge. His sympathies for other forms of information, however, and for types of people, were quick and warm. The red glow on his head gave it a sandy tinge and put a bright glint in his eye. Carrie noticed all these things as he leaned toward her and felt exceedingly young. This man was far ahead of her. He seemed wiser than Hurstwood, saner and brighter than Drouet. He seemed innocent and clean, and she thought that he was exceedingly pleasant. She noticed, also, that his interest in her was a far-off one. She was not in his life, nor any of the things that touched his life, and yet now, as he spoke of these things, they appealed to her.
"I shouldn't care to be rich," he told her, as the dinner proceeded and the supply of food warmed up his sympathies; "not rich enough to spend my money this way."
"Oh, wouldn't you?" said Carrie, the, to her, new attitude forcing itself distinctly upon her for the first time.
"No," he said. "What good would it do? A man doesn't need this sort of thing to be happy."
Carrie thought of this doubtfully; but, coming from him, it had weight with her.
"He probably could be happy," she thought to herself, "all alone. He's so strong."
Mr. and Mrs. Vance kept up a running fire of interruptions, and these impressive things by Ames came at odd moments. They were sufficient, however, for the atmosphere that went with this youth impressed itself upon Carrie without words. There was something in him, or the world he moved in, which appealed to her. He reminded her of scenes she had seen on the stage -- the sorrows and sacrifices that always went with she knew not what. He had taken away some of the bitterness of the contrast between this life and her life, and all by a certain calm indifference which concerned only him.
As they went out, he took her arm and helped her into the coach, and then they were off again, and so to the show.
During the acts Carrie found herself listening to him very attentively. He mentioned things in the play which she most approved of -- things which swayed her deeply.
"Don't you think it rather fine to be an actor?" she asked once.
"Yes, I do," he said, "to be a good one. I think the theatre a great thing."
Just this little approval set Carrie's heart bounding. Ah, if she could only be an actress -- a good one！ This man was wise -- he knew -- and he approved of it. If she were a fine actress, such men as he would approve of her. She felt that he was good to speak as he had, although it did not concern her at all. She did not know why she felt this way.
At the close of the show it suddenly developed that he was not going back with them.
"Oh, aren't you?" said Carrie, with an unwarrantable feeling.
"Oh, no," he said; "I'm stopping right around here in Thirty-third Street."
Carrie could not say anything else, but somehow this development shocked her. She had been regretting the wane of a pleasant evening, but she had thought there was a half-hour more. Oh, the half-hours, the minutes of the world; what miseries and griefs are crowded into them！
She said good-bye with feigned indifference. What matter could it make? Still, the coach seemed lorn.
When she went into her own flat she had this to think about. She did not know whether she would ever see this man any more. What difference could it make -- what difference could it make?
Hurstwood had returned, and was already in bed. His clothes were scattered loosely about. Carrie came to the door and saw him, then retreated. She did not want to go in yet a while. She wanted to think. It was disagreeable to her.
Back in the dining-room she sat in her chair and rocked. Her little hands were folded tightly as she thought. Through a fog of longing and conflicting desires she was beginning to see. Oh, ye legions of hope and pity -- of sorrow and pain！ She was rocking, and beginning to see.
这番漫步在嘉莉心中所引起的百般感受，使得她在接着看戏的时候的心情极易于接受戏中的伤感情调。她们去看的演员，以表演轻松喜剧而闻名，这种剧中加进了足够的伤感成分，形成和幽默的对照及调剂。正如我们十分了解的那样，舞台对于嘉莉有着巨大的吸引力。她从未忘记过她在芝加哥的那一次成功的演出。在那些漫长的下午，当她唯一的消遣是坐在摇椅上，看最新出版的小说时，那次演出便萦绕在她的心头，占满了她的脑海。每当她看戏时，她自己的才能就会栩栩如生地浮现在脑海里。有几场戏使得她渴望能在其中扮演一个角色，将她自己处在那个角色的地位所感受到的感情表现出来。她几乎总是要把那些生动的想象带回去，第二天独自加以琢磨。她生活在想象中，就如同生活在日常生活的现实中。
她在看戏之前被现实生活搅得心神不宁，这种情况还不常出现。可是今天，在看到那些华丽的服饰，欢乐的场面和那些美人之后，她的心里轻轻地唱起了一支渴望之歌。啊，这些从她身边走过的成百上千的女人们，她们是些什么人？这些富丽的高雅的服装、五光十色的钮扣和金银小饰物，它们是从哪里来的？这些美人儿住在什么地方？她们生活在什么样的优雅环境之中，有精雕细刻的家具，装璜华丽的墙壁，还有五彩缤纷的挂毯？她们的那些凡是金钱能买到的东西都应有尽有的豪华公寓在哪里？什么样的马厩喂养着这些漂亮机灵的马儿，停放着这些豪华的马车？那些衣着华丽的下人在哪里闲逛？啊，那些高楼大厦、华灯、香水、藏金收银的闺房还有摆满山珍海味的餐桌！纽约一定到处都有这样的闺房，否则哪来那么些美丽、傲慢、目空一切的佳人。有暖房培育着她们。让她感到痛心的是，她现在知道自己不是她们中的一员--天哪，她做了一个梦却未成真。她对自己两年来所过的寂寞生活感到惊讶 --她居然会对没有实现原来的期望无动于衷。
这出戏是那种根据有闲阶层的人在客厅里闲谈的资料编写的作品，戏中那些盛装的漂亮的小姐、太太和绅士们，在金碧辉煌的环境之中，遭受着爱情和嫉妒的折磨。对于那些终日渴望着这样的物质环境但却永远得不到满足的人，这种轻松戏剧始终具有魅力。它们的魅力在于表现了什么是在理想环境中的受苦。谁不愿意坐在镀金的椅子上伤心呢？谁不愿意在散发着香味的挂毯、铺有座垫的家具和身穿制服的仆人之间受苦呢？在这种环境中感到悲伤便成了一件诱人的事。嘉莉渴望能置身其中。她真想自己能在这样的世界里受苦，不管是什么样的苦都行，要是做不到这一点，至少能在舞台上的这种迷人的环境中模拟一番。她刚才的所见所闻极大地影响了她的心情，因此，这出戏现在看起来特别的美妙。她很快就沉浸在戏里所描绘的境界之中，真希望就此不再回到现实中来。
在转场的时候，她打量着在前排座位上和包厢里看戏的那些光彩照人的观众，对纽约潜在的种种机会，有了一种新的认识。她肯定自己没有看到纽约的全部，这个城市简直就是一个快乐幸福的旋涡。
从剧院里出来后，还是这条百老汇大街给她上了更为深刻的一课。她来时看到的场面现在更为壮观，达到了**。她可从未见过如此华丽挥霍的盛况。这更加坚定了她对自己的处境的看法。她等于没有生活过，根本谈不上享受过生活，除非她自己的生活中也能出现这种情景。她每走过一家高雅的店铺，都能看到女人们花钱如流水。鲜花、糖果和珠宝看来是那些贵妇人的主要兴趣所在。而她呢，她甚至没有足够的零用钱让自己每个月都能这样出来玩几次。
那天晚上，那套漂亮的小公寓显得十分乏味。这个世界上的其他人可不是住在这种地方的。她冷眼看着仆人在做晚饭。
她的脑海里则闪现着剧中的一场场戏。她尤其记得一个漂亮的女演员--饰演剧中那个被人追求并且得到的情人。这个女人的风姿征服了嘉莉的心。她的服装是完美艺术的体现，她的苦恼又是如此的真实。她所表现的痛苦，嘉莉都能感觉得到。她的表演很出色，嘉莉确信自己也能演得同样出色，有的地方她甚至还能演得更好。于是，她默默地念起了台词。啊，但愿她也能演一个这样的角色，那么她的生活将会拥有多么广阔的空间！而且，她也能演得富有魅力。
嘉莉正在闷闷不乐，赫斯渥回来了。她坐在摇椅里，边摇边想。她不愿意有人打断她的那些诱人的想象，所以她很少说话，或是不说话。
“你怎么啦，嘉莉？”过了一会儿，赫斯渥说，他注意到了她那沉默的、几近忧郁的神态。
“没什么，”嘉莉说。“我今天晚上感觉不太舒服。”“该不是生病了吧？”他走得很近，问道。
“哦，不是，”她说，几乎想发火了，“我只是觉得不大好受。”“那太糟了，“他说着走开了。刚才他稍稍俯了俯身，这时他把背心拉拉好，“我原想今晚我们可以去看场戏的。”“我不想去，”嘉莉说。她心里那些美丽的幻想就这样被打断和打消了，她很为恼火。“我今天下午去看过戏了。”“哦，你去看过戏了？”赫斯渥说，“是出什么戏？”“《一座金矿》。”“戏怎么样？”“很好，”嘉莉说。
“你今晚不想再去看戏了吗？”
“我不想去了，”她说。
可是，当她从忧郁的心境中清醒过来，被叫到饭桌上吃饭时，她改变了主意。胃里进点食也会产生奇迹。她又去看了戏，而且这样一来又暂时恢复了她的平静。然而，那令人觉醒的重重的当头一棒已经击过。现在她能常常从这些不满情绪中恢复过来，这些不满情绪也会常常再现。时间加上重复--啊，这真是奇妙！水滴石穿，石头终究要彻底地认输！
这次看日戏过后不久，大约一个月后，万斯太太邀请嘉莉和他们夫妇一起去看场夜戏。她听嘉莉说起赫斯渥不回来吃晚饭。
“你为什么不和我们一起去呢？别一个人吃晚饭。我们要去谢丽饭店吃饭，然后去莱西姆剧院看戏。和我们一起去吧。”“好吧，我去，"嘉莉回答。
她３点钟就开始打扮，准备５点半动身去那家有名的饭店，当时它正在与德尔莫尼科饭店竞争社会地位。从嘉莉这次的打扮上，可以看得出她和讲究打扮的万斯太太交往的影响。
后者经常不断地提醒她注意有关妇女服饰各个方面的新花样。
“你打算买某某、某某种的帽子吗？”或者“你看见饰有椭圆珠扣的新式手套了吗？”这只是一些例子，类似这样的谈话还很多。
“下次你买鞋时，亲爱的，”万斯太太说，“要买带扣的，有厚实的鞋底、专利鞋扣和漆皮鞋头。今年秋季这种鞋十分时髦。”“好的，”嘉莉说。
“喂，亲爱的，你看到奥尔特曼公司的新款衬衫了吗？那里有几种非常可爱的款式。我在那里看到一种，你穿上一定漂亮极了。我看见时就说了这话。"嘉莉很感兴趣地听着这些话，因为比普通常那些漂亮女人之间的一般谈话，这些话更带有友情。万斯太太非常喜欢嘉莉那始终如一的善良本质，把最时新的东西告诉嘉莉，真是她的一大乐事。
“你为什么不去买一条漂亮的哔叽裙子来穿呢？洛德--泰勒公司有卖的。”一天，她说， “那是圆筒式的，很快就要流行起来。你穿一条藏青色的肯定非常漂亮。”嘉莉认真地聆听着。在她和赫斯渥之间从来没有这类的谈话。不过，她开始提出这样或那样的要求，赫斯渥答应了这些要求，但是并不加以评论。他注意到了嘉莉的新爱好，听到很多有关万斯太太和她那快乐的生活方式的谈论，因而终于猜到了这种变化是从哪里来的。他不想这么快就提出哪怕是最小的异议，可是他感觉到嘉莉的需求在不断地扩大。这并不让他感到高兴，但是他爱她有他独特的方式，所以也就任启发展。可是，在具体的交涉中，有些事情使嘉莉觉得她的要求并不讨他的欢心。对她买的东西，他也不表示热心。这使得她认为自己渐渐受到冷落，因此他们之间又出现了一道小裂痕。
然而，万斯太太的那些建议毕竟有了效果，表现之一就是这一次，嘉莉总算对自己的打扮有些满意了。她穿上了自己最好的衣服。不过她感到欣慰的是，即便她不得不穿上一件自己最好的衣服，但这衣服她穿在身上很相宜，很合身。她看上去是个打扮得体的２１岁的女人，万斯太太称赞了她，这使她那丰满的面颊更加红润，两只大眼睛也更加明亮。看来天要下雨，万斯先生遵照太太的吩咐，叫了一辆马车。
“你丈夫不一起去吗？”万斯先生在他的小客厅里见到嘉莉时，提醒她说。
“不，他说过不回来吃晚饭的。”
“最好给他留张条子，告诉他我们去哪里了。他也许会来。”“好的，”嘉莉说，来此之前她没有想到这一点。
“告诉他，８点钟之前我们在谢丽饭店。我想他知道那个地方。”嘉莉穿过过道，裙子的下摆沙沙作响，连手套都没脱，胡乱草了一张条子。当她回来时，万斯家里来了个新客人。
“惠勒太太，我来给你介绍我的表弟艾姆斯先生，”万斯太太说，“他和我们一起去，是吧，鲍勃？”“见到你很高兴，”艾姆斯说，礼貌地对嘉莉鞠了鞠躬。
嘉莉一眼看到的是一个十分高大健壮的大块头。她还注意到他的脸刮得很光，容貌端正，年纪很轻，但仅此而已。
“艾姆斯先生刚到纽约，要在纽约待几天，”万斯插话说，“我们想带他看一看这里的风光。”“哦，是吗？”嘉莉说，又看了一眼客人。
“是的，我刚从印第安纳波利斯来到这里，准备待一星期左右，”年轻的艾姆斯说，他坐在一张椅子的边缘上，等着万斯太太梳洗打扮完毕。
“我想你已经发现纽约很值得一看，对吗？”嘉莉说，她想找点话说，以避免可能出现的死气沉沉的场面。
“这么大个城市，一星期恐怕逛不完吧，”艾姆斯愉快地答道。
他是个非常和气的人，而且一点也不做作。在嘉莉看来，他现在还只是在力图完全摆脱青年人害羞的痕迹。他看上去不是个善于交谈的人，但衣着讲究和大胆无畏是他的可取之处。嘉莉觉得和他谈话不会是件难事。
“好啦，我看现在我们都准备好了。马车等在外面。”“走吧，伙伴们，”万斯太太笑着进来，说道，“鲍勃，你得照顾一下惠勒太太。”“我会尽力而为，”鲍勃含着笑说，挨近嘉莉一些。“你不需要多照顾的，是吧？”他以一种讨好和求助的口气说，显得很是主动。
“希望不会太多，”嘉莉说。
他们走下楼来，上了敞篷马车，万斯太太一路提着建议。
“行了，”万斯说，砰的一声关上车门，车子就上路了。
“我们去看什么戏？”艾姆斯问。
“索桑演的《查姆列勋爵》，”万斯说。
“哦，他演得好极了！”万斯太太说，“他简直是滑稽透顶。”“我注意到报纸的评价很高，”艾姆斯说。
“我绝对相信，”万斯插话说，“我们都会看得很开心的。”艾姆斯因为坐在嘉莉身边。便觉得自己责无旁贷地要照顾她一些。他饶有兴趣地发现，她这位太太竟然这么年轻，又这么漂亮，不过，这种兴趣完全出于尊重。他毫无那种专事追逐女人的风流男子的派头。他尊重婚姻，心里想的只是印第安纳波利斯的那几位已到了婚龄的漂亮姑娘。
“你是土生土长的纽约人吗？”艾姆斯问嘉莉。
“哦，不是的，我来这里才两年。”
“哦，是这样，不过你也有足够的时间好好领略纽约的风光了。”“我好像还没有领略多少，”嘉莉回答。“对我来说，它现在和我刚来这里的时候差不多一样陌生。”“你是从西部来的，对不对？”“不错。我是威斯康星州人，”她答道。
“是啊，看来这个城市的多数人来这里都不太久。我听说这里有很多和我是同行的印第安纳州人。”“你干的是哪一行？”嘉莉问道。
“我为一家电气公司工作，”年轻人说。
嘉莉继续这样随便地谈着，万斯夫妇偶尔也插上几句。有几次，大家都谈起话来，还有几分诙谐，就这样到了饭店。
嘉莉注意到沿途那喜庆热闹和寻欢作乐的景象。到处都是马车和行人，五十九街的有轨电车十分拥挤。在五十九街和第五大道的交叉处，挨着普拉扎广场的几家新旅馆一片灯火辉煌，向人们暗示着旅馆里的那种豪华生活。在第五大道，这个富人的安乐窝里，挤满了马车和身穿晚礼服的绅士。他们到了谢丽饭店门口，一个仪表堂堂的看门人替他们打开车门，扶他们下了车。年轻的艾姆斯托着嘉莉的胳膊，扶她上了台阶。
他们走进已经宾客满堂的门厅，脱下外衣后，进了豪华的餐厅。
在她这一生的经历中，嘉莉还从未见过这样的场面。她在纽约待了这么久，可是赫斯渥在新的处境里的经济状况，不允许他带她来这种地方。这周围有一种几乎难以形容的气氛，使得初来的人相信这里才是该来的地方。这种地方，由于费用昂贵，只有那些有钱的或者喜欢作乐的阶层的人，才会成为这里的主顾。嘉莉经常在《世界晨报》和《世界晚报》上看到有关这里的消息。她见过关于在谢丽饭店举行舞会、聚会、大型舞会和晚宴的通告。某某小姐兹定于星期三晚上假座谢丽饭店举行晚会。年轻的某某先生兹定于１６日假座谢丽饭店设午宴款待朋友。诸如此类有关社交活动的常规的三言两语的通告，她每天都忍不住要扫上一眼，因此她十分清楚这座美食家的圣殿的豪华和奢侈。现在，她自己也终于真的来到了这里。她真的走上了由那个身强力壮的看门人守护的堂皇的台阶。她真的看见了由另一个身强力壮的人守护的门厅，还享受了那些照看手杖和大衣之类物品的身穿制服的仆人的伺候。这就是那个华丽无比的餐厅，那个装璜精美、四壁生辉、专供有钱人进餐的地方。啊，万斯太太真幸运，年轻、漂亮、还有钱--至少是有足够的钱乘马车到这里来。有钱真是美妙呀！
万斯领头穿过一排排亮闪闪的餐桌，每张桌上用餐的有两至六人不等。这里的一切都显得大方而庄重，初来乍到的人尤其能感到这一点。白炽灯及其在擦得雪亮的玻璃杯上的反光和金光闪闪的墙壁相辉映，形成了一片光的世界。期间的差异，只有静心观察一阵子，才能加以区别和辨认。绅士们洁白的衬衫衣襟、太太们鲜艳的装束打扮、钻石、珠宝、精美的羽饰--这一切都十分引人注目。
嘉莉同万斯太太一样神气地走进去，在领班为她安排的座位上坐下。她敏锐地注意到一切细小的动作--那些美国人为之付费的侍者和领班的点头哈腰献殷勤的小动作。领班拉出每一把椅子时所表现的神态，请他们入座时做的挥手姿式，这些本身就要值几块钱的。
一坐下，就开始展示有钱的美国人特有的那种铺张浪费且有损健康的吃法。这种吃法令全世界真正有教养、有尊严的人感到奇怪和吃惊。大菜单上列的一行行菜肴足够供养一支军队，旁边标明的价格使得合理开支成为一件可笑且不可能的事情--一份汤要５毛或１块，有一打品种可供选择；有四十种风味的牡蛎，六只要价６毛；主菜、鱼和肉类菜肴的价钱可以供一个人在一般旅馆里住上一宿。在这份印刷十分精美的菜单上，１块５和２块似乎是最普通的价格。
嘉莉注意到了这一点，在看菜单时，童子鸡的价格使她回想起另一份菜单以及那个十分悬殊的场合，那是她第一次和杜洛埃坐在芝加哥一家不错的餐馆里。这只是个瞬间的回忆--如同一首老歌中一个悲伤的音符--随后就消失了。但是在这一刹那间看见的是另一个嘉莉--贫困、饥饿、走投无路，而整个芝加哥是一个冷酷、排外的世界，因为找不到工作，她只能在外面流浪。
墙上装饰着彩色图案，淡绿蓝色的方块块，周围镶着绚丽的金框，四角是些精致的造型，有水果、花朵以及天使般自由翱翔的胖胖的小爱神。天花板上的藻井更是金光闪闪，顺着藻井往中央看，那里悬着一串明灯，白炽灯和闪光的棱柱以及镶金灰泥卷须交织在一起。地板是红色的，上了蜡，打得很光。到处都是镜子--高高的、亮亮的斜边镜子--无数次地反复映出人影、面孔和灯台。
餐桌本身没有什么特别，可是餐巾上的“谢丽”字样，银器上的“蒂芬尼”名字，瓷器上的 “哈维蓝”姓氏，当装有红色灯罩的小灯台照耀着这一切，当墙上的五光十色反射在客人们的衣服和脸上时，这些餐桌看上去就十分引人注目了。每个侍者的举手投足，无论是鞠躬或是后退，还是安排座位或是收拾杯盘，都增加了这里的尊贵和高雅的气氛。他对每一位顾客都悉心专门地伺候，半弯着腰立在旁边，侧耳倾听，两手叉腰，口里念着：“汤--甲鱼汤，好的。一份，好的。牡蛎吗，有的--要半打，好的。芦笋。橄榄--好的。”
每位客人都能享受同样的服务，只是这次万斯主动地为大家点菜，征求着大家的意见和建议。嘉莉睁大眼睛打量着这里的人们。纽约的奢侈生活原来如此。有钱人原来就是这样打发他们的时光。她那可怜的小脑袋里所能想到的，就是这里的每一个场面都代表着整个上流社会。每一个贵妇人都必定是下午在百老汇大街的人群中，看日戏时在剧院内，晚上在马车上和餐厅里。肯定到哪里都是风风光光，有马车等待着，有下人伺候着，可是这一切她都没有份。在过去那漫长的两年中，她甚至压根没来过这样的地方。
万斯在这种地方如鱼得水，就像赫斯渥从前一样。他大方地点了汤、牡蛎、烤肉和配菜，还要了几啤酒，放在桌边的柳条篮里。
艾姆斯正出神地望着餐厅里的人群，这样嘉莉看到的是他的侧面，很有趣。他的额头长得很高，鼻子大而结实，下巴也还可爱。他的嘴长得不错，宽阔匀称，深棕色的头发稍稍朝一边分开。在嘉莉看来，他还有点儿孩子气，尽管他已经是个十足的成年人了。
“你知道吗，”沉思过后，他回头对嘉莉说。“有时候，我认为人们这样挥金如土是件可耻的事。”嘉莉看了他一会儿，对他的严肃表情有一丝吃惊。他像是在想一些她从未考虑过的事情。
“是吗？”她很感兴趣地回答。
“真的，”他说，“他们花的钱远远超过了这些东西的价值。
他们是在大摆阔气。”
“我不明白，既然人们有钱，为什么不应该花它，”万斯太太说。
“这样做也没什么坏处，”万斯说，他还在研究菜单，虽然已经点过菜了。
艾姆斯又转眼望去，嘉莉又看着他的额头。她觉得他似乎在想些奇怪的事情，他在打量人群时，目光是温和的。
“看看那边那个女人穿的衣服，”他又回头对嘉莉说，朝一个方向点了点头。
“哪边？”嘉莉说，顺着他的目光看去。
“那边角上--还远一点，你看见那枚胸针了吗？”“很大，是吧？”嘉莉说。
“这是我见过的最大的一串宝石，”艾姆斯说。
“是很大，不是吗？”嘉莉说。她觉得自己像是很想附合着这个年轻人说话，而且与此同时，也许在此之前，她依稀感到他比她受过更多的教育，头脑也比她好使。他看上去似乎是这样，而嘉莉的可取之处正在于她能够理解有些人是会比别人聪明。她一生中见过不少这样的人物，他们使她想起她自己模模糊糊地想象出的学者。现在她身边这个强壮的年轻人，外表清秀，神态自然，仿佛懂得很多她不大懂但却赞同的事情。她想，一个男人能这样是很不错的。
谈话转到当时的一本畅销书，艾伯特·罗斯的《塑造一个淑女》。万斯太太读过这本书。万斯在有些报上见过对它的讨论。
“一个人写本书就能一举成名，”万斯说。“我注意到很多人都在谈论这个叫罗斯的家伙。”他说这话时看着嘉莉。
“我没听说过他，”嘉莉老实地说。
“哦，我听说过，”万斯太太说，“他写过不少东西。最近的这本书写得很不错。”“他并没有什么了不起的，”艾姆斯说。
嘉莉转过眼去看着他，像是看一个先哲。
“他写的东西差不多和《朵拉·索恩》一样糟，”他下结论说。
嘉莉觉得这像是在谴责她。她读过《朵拉·索恩》，或者说以前读过很多篇连载。她自己觉得这本书只能说还可以，但是她猜想别人会以为这本书很不错的。
而现在，这个眼睛明亮、头脑聪明、在她看来还像个学生似的青年人却在嘲笑它。
在他看来，这本书很糟，不值得一读。她低下了头，第一次为自己缺乏理解力感到苦恼。
可是艾姆斯说话的口气没有丝毫的嘲讽或傲慢的味道。
他身上很少这种味道。嘉莉觉得这只是个从更高的角度提出来的善意见解，一种正确的见解，她想知道按他的观点，还有什么是正确的。他似乎注意到了她在听他说话，而且很赞赏他的观点，于是从这以后他说话多半是对着她说的。
侍者鞠躬后退，摸摸盘子看看是否够热，送上汤匙和叉子，殷勤地做着这些小事，为的是能使顾客对这里的豪华环境产生印象。在这期间，艾姆斯也微微侧着身子，向她讲述着印第安纳波利斯的事情，显得很有见识。他确实长了一个充满智慧的脑袋，他的智慧主要体现在电学知识方面。不过他对其它各种学问和各类人物的反应也很敏捷、热烈。红色的灯光照在他的头上，头发变成了金黄色，眼睛也闪闪发亮。当他俯身向她时，她注意到了这一切，觉得自己非常年轻。这个男人远远在她之上。他看上去比赫斯渥明智，比杜洛埃稳舰聪明。他看上去天真、纯洁，她觉得他十分可爱。她还注意到他虽对她有些兴趣。但和她之间相距甚远。她不在他的生活圈内，有关他的生活的任何事情和她都没有关系，可是现在，当他谈起这些事情时，她很感兴趣。
“我可不想做有钱人，”吃饭时他告诉她说，那些食物激发了他的同情心，“不想有太多的钱来这样挥霍。”“哦，你不想吗？”嘉莉说，她第一次听到这种新观点，给她留下了鲜明的印象。
“不想，”他说，“那会有什么好处呢？人要幸福并不需要这种东西。”嘉莉对此有些怀疑，但是从他口里出来的话，对她是有份量的。
“他孤身一人可能也会幸福的，”她心里想。“他是这么强壮。”万斯夫妇不停地插话，艾姆斯只能断断续续地谈些这类难忘的事情。不过，这些已经足够了。因为用不着说话，这个青年人带来的气氛本身就已经给嘉莉留下了深刻的印象。他的身上或者他所到之处有某种东西让她着迷。他使她想起了那些她在舞台上看到的场面，伴随着某种她所不懂的东西，总会出现种种忧愁和牺牲。他那特有的一种从容不迫、无动于衷的气度，减轻了一些这种生活与她的生活对照所产生的痛苦。
他们走出饭店时，他挽住她的手臂，扶她进了马车，然后他们又上路了，就这样去看戏。
看戏的时候，嘉莉发现自己在很专心地听他说话。他提到的戏中的细节，都是她最喜欢的、最令她感动的地方。
“你不认为做个演员很不错吗？”有一次她问道。
“是的，我认为很不错，”他说，“要做个好演员。我认为戏剧很了不起。”就这么一个小小的赞许，弄得嘉莉心头怦怦直跳。啊，但愿她能做个演员--一个好演员！这是个明智的人--他懂--而且他还赞成。倘若她是个出色的演员的话，像他这样的男人会赞许她的。她觉得他能这样说真是个好人，虽然这事和她毫不相干。她不知道为什么自己会有这样的感觉。
戏终场时，她突然明白他不准备和他们一起回去。
“哦，你不回去吗？”嘉莉问，显得有些失态。
“哎，不了，”他说，“我就住在这附近的三十三街上。”嘉莉不再说什么了，但不知怎么地，这事使她很受震动。
她一直在惋惜这个愉快的夜晚即将消逝，但她原以为还有半个小时呢。啊，这些个半小时，这些个分分秒秒，期间充满着多少痛苦和悲伤！
她故作冷淡地道了别。这有什么了不起的？可是，马车似乎变得冷冷清清了。
她回到自己的公寓时，心里还在想着这件事。她不知道自己是否能再见到这个人。可这又有什么什么关系--这又有什么关系呢？
赫斯渥已经回来了，这时已上了床。旁边凌乱地放着他的衣服。嘉莉走到房门口，看见他，又退了回来。她一时还不想进去。她要想一想。房里的情景令她感到不快。
她回到餐室，坐在摇椅里摇了起来。她沉思时两只小手捏得紧紧的。透过那渴望和矛盾的欲望的迷雾，她开始看清了。
啊，多少希望和惋惜，多少悲伤和痛苦！她摇晃着，开始看清了。