At last the curtain was ready to go up. All the details of the make-up had been completed, and the company settled down as the leader of the small, hired orchestra tapped significantly upon his music rack with his baton and began the soft curtain-raising strain. Hurstwood ceased talking, and went with Drouet and his friend Sagar Morrison around to the box.
"Now, we'll see how the little girl does," he said to Drouet, in a tone which no one else could hear.
On the stage, six of the characters had already appeared in the opening parlour scene. Drouet and Hurstwood saw at a glance that Carrie was not among them, and went on talking in a whisper. Mrs. Morgan, Mrs. Hoagland, and the actor who had taken Bamberger's part were representing the principal roles in this scene. The professional, whose name was Patton, had little to recommend him outside of his assurance, but this at the present moment was most palpably needed. Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, was stiff with fright. Mrs. Hoagland was husky in the throat. The whole company was so weak-kneed that the lines were merely spoken, and nothing more. It took all the hope and uncritical good-nature of the audience to keep from manifesting pity by that unrest which is the agony of failure.
Hurstwood was perfectly indifferent. He took it for granted that it would be worthless. All he cared for was to have it endurable enough to allow for pretension and congratulation afterward.
After the first rush of fright, however, the players got over the danger of collapse. They rambled weakly forward, losing nearly all the expression which was intended, and making the thing dull in the extreme, when Carrie came in.
One glance at her, and both Hurstwood and Drouet saw plainly that she also was weak-kneed. She came faintly across the stage, saying:
"And you, sir; we have been looking for you since eight o'clock," but with so little colour and in such a feeble voice that it was positively painful.
"She's frightened," whispered Drouet to Hurstwood.
The manager made no answer.
She had a line presently which was supposed to be funny.
"Well, that's as much as to say that I'm a sort of life pill."
It came out so flat, however, that it was a deathly thing. Drouet fidgeted. Hurstwood moved his toe the least bit.
There was another place in which Laura was to rise and, with a sense of impending disaster, say, sadly:
"I wish you hadn't said that, Pearl. You know the old proverb, 'Call a maid by a married name.'"
The lack of feeling in the thing was ridiculous. Carrie did not get it at all. She seemed to be talking in her sleep. It looked as if she were certain to be a wretched failure. She was more hopeless than Mrs. Morgan, who had recovered somewhat, and was now saying her lines clearly at least. Drouet looked away from the stage at the audience. The latter held out silently, hoping for a general change, of course. Hurstwood fixed his eye on Carrie, as if to hypnotise her into doing better. He was pouring determination of his own in her direction. He felt sorry for her.
In a few more minutes it fell to her to read the letter sent in by the strange villain. The audience had been slightly diverted by a conversation between the professional actor and a character called Snorky, impersonated by a short little American, who really developed some humour as a half-crazed, one-armed soldier, turned messenger for a living. He bawled his lines out with such defiance that, while they really did not partake of the humour intended, they were funny. Now he was off, however, and it was back to pathos, with Carrie as the chief figure. She did not recover. She wandered through the whole scene between herself and the intruding villain, straining the patience of the audience, and finally exiting, much to their relief.
"She's too nervous," said Drouet, feeling in the mildness of the remark that he was lying for once.
"Better go back and say a word to her."
Drouet was glad to do anything for relief. He fairly hustled around to the side entrance, and was let in by the friendly door-keeper. Carrie was standing in the wings, weakly waiting her next cue, all the snap and nerve gone out of her.
"Say, Cad," he said, looking at her, "you mustn't be nervous. Wake up. Those guys out there don't amount to anything. What are you afraid of?"
"I don't know," said Carrie. "I just don't seem to be able to do it."
She was grateful for the drummer's presence, though. She had found the company so nervous that her own strength had gone.
"Come on," said Drouet. "Brace up. What are you afraid of? Go on out there now, and do the trick. What do you care?"
Carrie revived a little under the drummer's electrical, nervous condition.
"Did I do so very bad?"
"Not a bit. All you need is a little more ginger. Do it as you showed me. Get that toss of your head you had the other night."
Carrie remembered her triumph in the room. She tried to think she could do it.
"What's next?" he said, looking at her part, which she had been studying.
"Why, the scene between Ray and me when I refuse him."
"Well, now you do that lively," said the drummer. "Put in snap, that's the thing. Act as if you didn't care."
"Your turn next, Miss Madenda," said the prompter.
"Oh, dear," said Carrie.
"Well, you're a chump for being afraid," said Drouet. "Come on now, brace up. I'll watch you from right here."
"Will you?" said Carrie.
"Yes, now go on. Don't be afraid."
The prompter signalled her.
She started out, weak as ever, but suddenly her nerve partially returned. She thought of Drouet looking.
"Ray," she said, gently, using a tone of voice much more calm than when she had last appeared. It was the scene which had pleased the director at the rehearsal.
"She's easier," thought Hurstwood to himself.
She did not do the part as she had at rehearsal, but she was better. The audience was at least not irritated. The improvement of the work of the entire company took away direct observation from her. They were making very fair progress, and now it looked as if the play would be passable, in the less trying parts at least.
Carrie came off warm and nervous.
"Well," she said, looking at him, "was it any better?"
"Well, I should say so. That's the way. Put life into it. You did that about a thousand per cent. better than you did the other scene. Now go on and fire up. You can do it. Knock 'em."
"Was it really better?"
"Better, I should say so. What comes next?"
"That ballroom scene."
"Well, you can do that all right," he said.
"I don't know," answered Carrie.
"Why, woman," he exclaimed, "you did it for me！ Now you go out there and do it. It'll be fun for you. Just do as you did in the room. If you'll reel it off that way, I'll bet you make a hit. Now, what'll you bet? You do it."
The drummer usually allowed his ardent good-nature to get the better of his speech. He really did think that Carrie had acted this particular scene very well, and he wanted her to repeat it in public. His enthusiasm was due to the mere spirit of the occasion.
When the time came, he buoyed Carrie up most effectually. He began to make her feel as if she had done very well. The old melancholy of desire began to come back as he talked at her, and by the time the situation rolled around she was running high in feeling.
"I think I can do this."
"Sure you can. Now you go ahead and see."
On the stage, Mrs. Van Dam was making her cruel insinuation against Laura.
Carrie listened, and caught the infection of something -- she did not know what. Her nostrils sniffed thinly.
"It means," the professional actor began, speaking as Ray, "that society is a terrible avenger of insult. Have you ever heard of the Siberian wolves? When one of the pack falls through weakness, the others devour him. It is not an elegant comparison, but there is something wolfish in society. Laura has mocked it with a pretence, and society, which is made up of pretence, will bitterly resent the mockery."
At the sound of her stage name Carrie started. She began to feel the bitterness of the situation. The feelings of the outcast descended upon her. She hung at the wing's edge, wrapt in her own mounting thoughts. She hardly heard anything more, save her own rumbling blood.
"Come, girls," said Mrs. Van Dam, solemnly, "let us look after our things. They are no longer safe when such an accomplished thief enters."
"Cue," said the prompter, close to her side, but she did not hear. Already she was moving forward with a steady grace, born of inspiration. She dawned upon the audience, handsome and proud, shifting, with the necessity of the situation, to a cold, white, helpless object, as the social pack moved away from her scornfully.
Hurstwood blinked his eyes and caught the infection. The radiating waves of feeling and sincerity were already breaking against the farthest walls of the chamber. The magic of passion, which will yet dissolve the world, was here at work.
There was a drawing, too, of attention, a riveting of feeling, heretofore wandering.
"Ray！ Ray！ Why do you not come back to her?" was the cry of Pearl.
Every eye was fixed on Carrie, still proud and scornful. They moved as she moved. Their eyes were with her eyes.
Mrs. Morgan, as Pearl, approached her.
"Let us go home," she said.
"No," answered Carrie, her voice assuming for the first time a penetrating quality which it had never known. "Stay with him！"
She pointed an almost accusing hand toward her lover. Then, with a pathos which struck home because of its utter simplicity, "He shall not suffer long."
Hurstwood realised that he was seeing something extraordinarily good. It was heightened for him by the applause of the audience as the curtain descended and the fact that it was Carrie. He thought now that she was beautiful. She had done something which was above his sphere. He felt a keen delight in realising that she was his.
"Fine," he said, and then, seized by a sudden impulse, arose and went about to the stage door.
When he came in upon Carrie she was still with Drouet. His feelings for her were most exuberant. He was almost swept away by the strength and feeling she exhibited. His desire was to pour forth his praise with the unbounded feelings of a lover, but here was Drouet, whose affection was also rapidly reviving. The latter was more fascinated, if anything, than Hurstwood. At least, in the nature of things, it took a more ruddy form.
"Well, well," said Drouet, "you did out of sight. That was simply great. I knew you could do it. Oh, but you're a little daisy！"
Carrie's eyes flamed with the light of achievement.
"Did I do all right?"
"Did you? Well, I guess. Didn't you hear the applause?"
There was some faint sound of clapping yet.
"I thought I got it something like -- I felt it."
Just then Hurstwood came in. Instinctively he felt the change in Drouet. He saw that the drummer was near to Carrie, and jealousy leaped alight in his bosom. In a flash of thought, he reproached himself for having sent him back. Also, he hated him as an intruder. He could scarcely pull himself down to the level where he would have to congratulate Carrie as a friend. Nevertheless, the man mastered himself, and it was a triumph. He almost jerked the old subtle light to his eyes.
"I thought," he said, looking at Carrie, "I would come around and tell you how well you did, Mrs. Drouet. It was delightful."
Carrie took the cue, and replied:
"Oh, thank you."
"I was just telling her," put in Drouet, now delighted with his possession, "that I thought she did fine."
"Indeed you did," said Hurstwood, turning upon Carrie eyes in which she read more than the words.
Carrie laughed luxuriantly.
"If you do as well in the rest of the play, you will make us all think you are a born actress."
Carrie smiled again. She felt the acuteness of Hurstwood's position, and wished deeply that she could be alone with him, but she did not understand the change in Drouet. Hurstwood found that he could not talk, repressed as he was, and grudging Drouet every moment of his presence, he bowed himself out with the elegance of a Faust. Outside he set his teeth with envy.
"Damn it！" he said, "is he always going to be in the way?" He was moody when he got back to the box, and could not talk for thinking of his wretched situation.
As the curtain for the next act arose, Drouet came back. He was very much enlivened in temper and inclined to whisper, but Hurstwood pretended interest. He fixed his eyes on the stage, although Carrie was not there, a short bit of melodramatic comedy preceding her entrance. He did not see what was going on, however. He was thinking his own thoughts, and they were wretched.
The progress of the play did not improve matters for him. Carrie, from now on, was easily the centre of interest. The audience, which had been inclined to feel that nothing could be good after the first gloomy impression, now went to the other extreme and saw power where it was not. The general feeling reacted on Carrie. She presented her part with some felicity, though nothing like the intensity which had aroused the feeling at the end of the long first act.
Both Hurstwood and Drouet viewed her pretty figure with rising feelings. The fact that such ability should reveal itself in her, that they should see it set forth under such effective circumstances, framed almost in massy gold and shone upon by the appropriate lights of sentiment and personality, heightened her charm for them. She was more than the old Carrie to Drouet. He longed to be at home with her until he could tell her. He awaited impatiently the end, when they should go home alone.
Hurstwood, on the contrary, saw in the strength of her new attractiveness his miserable predicament. He could have cursed the man beside him. By the Lord, he could not even applaud feelingly as he would. For once he must simulate when it left a taste in his mouth.
It was in the last act that Carrie's fascination for her lovers assumed its most effective character.
Hurstwood listened to its progress, wondering when Carrie would come on. He had not long to wait. The author had used the artifice of sending all the merry company for a drive, and now Carrie came in alone. It was the first time that Hurstwood had had a chance to see her facing the audience quite alone, for nowhere else had she been without a foil of some sort. He suddenly felt, as she entered, that her old strength -- the power that had grasped him at the end of the first act -- had come back. She seemed to be gaining feeling, now that the play was drawing to a close and the opportunity for great action was passing.
"Poor Pearl," she said, speaking with natural pathos. "It is a sad thing to want for happiness, but it is a terrible thing to see another groping about blindly for it, when it is almost within the grasp."
She was gazing now sadly out upon the open sea, her arm resting listlessly upon the polished door-post.
Hurstwood began to feel a deep sympathy for her and for himself. He could almost feel that she was talking to him. He was, by a combination of feelings and entanglements, almost deluded by that quality of voice and manner which, like a pathetic strain of music, seems ever a personal and intimate thing. Pathos has this quality, that it seems ever addressed to one alone.
"And yet, she can be very happy with him," went on the little actress. "Her sunny temper, her joyous face will brighten any home."
She turned slowly toward the audience without seeing. There was so much simplicity in her movements that she seemed wholly alone. Then she found a seat by a table, and turned over some books, devoting a thought to them.
"With no longings for what I may not have," she breathed in conclusion -- and it was almost a sigh -- "my existence hidden from all save two in the wide world, and making my joy out of the joy of that innocent girl who will soon be his wife."
Hurstwood was sorry when a character, known as Peach Blossom, interrupted her. He stirred irritably, for he wished her to go on. He was charmed by the pale face, the lissome figure, draped in pearl grey, with a coiled string of pearls at the throat. Carrie had the air of one who was weary and in need of protection, and, under the fascinating make-believe of the moment, he rose in feeling until he was ready in spirit to go to her and ease her out of her misery by adding to his own delight.
In a moment Carrie was alone again, and was saying, with animation:
"I must return to the city, no matter what dangers may lurk here. I must go, secretly if I can; openly, if I must."
There was a sound of horses' hoofs outside, and then Ray's voice saying:
"No, I shall not ride again. Put him up."
He entered, and then began a scene which had as much to do with the creation of the tragedy of affection in Hurstwood as anything in his peculiar and involved career. For Carrie had resolved to make something of this scene, and, now that the cue had come, it began to take a feeling hold upon her. Both Hurstwood and Drouet noted the rising sentiment as she proceeded.
"I thought you had gone with Pearl," she said to her lover.
"I did go part of the way, but I left the party a mile down the road."
"You and Pearl had no disagreement?"
"No -- yes; that is, we always have. Our social barometers always stand at 'cloudy' and 'overcast.'
"And whose fault is that?" she said, easily.
"Not mine," he answered, pettishly. "I know I do all I can -- I say all I can -- but she-"
This was rather awkwardly put by Patton, but Carrie redeemed it with a grace which was inspiring.
"But she is your wife," she said, fixing her whole attention upon the stilled actor, and softening the quality of her voice until it was again low and musical. "Ray, my friend, courtship is the text from which the whole sermon of married life takes its theme. Do not let yours be discontented and unhappy."
She put her two little hands together and pressed them appealingly.
Hurstwood gazed with slightly parted lips. Drouet was fidgeting with satisfaction.
"To be my wife, yes," went on the actor in a manner which was weak by comparison, but which could not now spoil the tender atmosphere which Carrie had created and maintained. She did not seem to feel that he was wretched. She would have done nearly as well with a block of wood. The accessories she needed were within her own imagination. The acting of others could not affect them.
"And you repent already?" she said, slowly.
"I lost you," he said, seizing her little hand, "and I was at the mercy of any flirt who chose to give me an inviting look. It was your fault -- you know it was -- why did you leave me?"
Carrie turned slowly away, and seemed to be mastering some impulse in silence. Then she turned back.
"Ray," she said, "the greatest happiness I have ever felt has been the thought that all your affection was forever bestowed upon a virtuous woman, your equal in family, fortune, and accomplishments. What a revelation do you make to me now！ What is it makes you continually war with your happiness?"
The last question was asked so simply that it came to the audience and the lover as a personal thing.
At last it came to the part where the lover exclaimed, "Be to me as you used to be."
Carrie answered, with affecting sweetness, "I cannot be that to you, but I can speak in the spirit of the Laura who is dead to you forever."
"Be it as you will," said Patton.
Hurstwood leaned forward. The whole audience was silent and intent.
"Let the woman you look upon be wise or vain," said Carrie, her eyes bent sadly upon the lover, who had sunk into a seat, "beautiful or homely, rich or poor, she has but one thing she can really give or refuse -- her heart,"
Drouet felt a scratch in his throat.
"Her beauty, her wit, her accomplishments, she may sell to you; but her love is the treasure without money and without price."
The manager suffered this as a personal appeal. It came to him as if they were alone, and he could hardly restrain the tears for sorrow over the hopeless, pathetic, and yet dainty and appealing woman whom he loved. Drouet also was beside himself. He was resolving that he would be to Carrie what he had never been before. He would marry her, by George！ She was worth it.
"She asks only in return," said Carrie, scarcely hearing the small, scheduled reply of her lover, and putting herself even more in harmony with the plaintive melody now issuing from the orchestra, "that when you look upon her your eyes shall speak devotion; that when you address her your voice shall be gentle, loving, and kind; that you shall not despise her because she cannot understand all at once your vigorous thoughts and ambitious designs; for, when misfortune and evil have defeated your greatest purposes, her love remains to console you. You look to the trees," she continued, while Hurstwood restrained his feelings only by the grimmest repression, "for strength and grandeur; do not despise the flowers because their fragrance is all they have to give. Remember," she concluded, tenderly, "love is all a woman has to give," and she laid a strange, sweet accent on the all, "but it is the only thing which God permits us to carry beyond the grave."
The two men were in the most harrowed state of affection. They scarcely heard the few remaining words with which the scene concluded. They only saw their idol, moving about with appealing grace, continuing a power which to them was a revelation.
Hurstwood resolved a thousand things, Drouet as well. They joined equally in the burst of applause which called Carrie out. Drouet pounded his hands until they ached. Then he jumped up again and started out. As he went, Carrie came out, and, seeing an immense basket of flowers being hurried down the aisle toward her, she waited. They were Hurstwood's. She looked toward the manager's box for a moment, caught his eye, and smiled. He could have leaped out of the box to enfold her. He forgot the need of circumspectness which his married state enforced. He almost forgot that he had with him in the box those who knew him. By the Lord, he would have that lovely girl if it took his all. He would act at once. This should be the end of Drouet, and don't you forget it. He would not wait another day. The drummer should not have her.
He was so excited that he could not stay in the box. He went into the lobby, and then into the street, thinking. Drouet did not return. In a few minutes the last act was over, and he was crazy to have Carrie alone. He cursed the luck that could keep him smiling, bowing, shamming, when he wanted to tell her that he loved her, when he wanted to whisper to her alone. He groaned as he saw that his hopes were futile. He must even take her to supper, shamming. He finally went about and asked how she was getting along. The actors were all dressing, talking, hurrying about. Drouet was palavering himself with the looseness of excitement and passion. The manager mastered himself only by a great effort.
"We are going to supper, of course," he said, with a voice that was a mockery of his heart.
"Oh, yes," said Carrie, smiling.
The little actress was in fine feather. She was realising now what it was to be petted. For once she was the admired, the sought-for. The independence of success now made its first faint showing. With the tables turned, she was looking down, rather than up, to her lover. She did not fully realise that this was so, but there was something in condescension coming from her which was infinitely sweet. When she was ready they climbed into the waiting coach and drove down town; once, only, did she find an opportunity to express her feeling, and that was when the manager preceded Drouet in the coach and sat beside her. Before Drouet was fully in she had squeezed Hurstwood's hand in a gentle, impulsive manner. The manager was beside himself with affection. He could have sold his soul to be with her alone. "Ah," he thought, "the agony of it."
Drouet hung on, thinking he was all in all. The dinner was spoiled by his enthusiasm. Hurstwood went home feeling as if he should die if he did not find affectionate relief. He whispered "to-morrow" passionately to Carrie, and she understood. He walked away from the drummer and his prize at parting feeling as if he could slay him and not regret. Carrie also felt the misery of it.
"Good-night," he said, simulating an easy friendliness.
"Good-night," said the little actress, tenderly.
"The fool！" he said, now hating Drouet. "The idiot！ I'll do him yet, and that quick！ We'll see to-morrow."
"Well, if you aren't a wonder," Drouet was saying, complacently, squeezing Carrie's arm. "You are the dandiest little girl on earth."
终于到了幕拉开的时候了。一切化妆都已细心地完成了，演员们坐下来静等。雇来的小乐队指挥用他的指挥棒在乐谱架上暗示地敲了一下，于是乐队开始奏起了启幕时的柔和乐章。
赫斯渥停止了交谈，和杜洛埃以及他的朋友萨加·莫里生一起朝他们的包厢走去。
“现在让我们来瞧瞧这小姑娘演得怎么样，”他压低声音对杜洛埃说，不让旁人听到。
第一幕客厅那场戏里已有六个演员出现在舞台上。杜洛埃和赫斯渥一眼就看出嘉莉不在其中，于是他们继续轻轻地交谈。这一场里的主要人物是莫根太太、荷格兰太太和替代了班贝格先生的那个演员。那个职业演员的名字叫巴顿，他除了不怯场这一点外，几乎一无可龋不过就目前而言，不怯场显然是最重要的了。演珍珠的莫根太太紧张得手足无措，荷格兰太太则吓得嗓子也沙哑了。演员们个个腿脚发软，勉强背着台词，一点儿表情也没有。幸亏观众们怀着希望和善意，才没有骚动不安，才没有对令人难堪的演出失败表示遗憾。
赫斯渥对此根本不在意。他早就预料这演出不值一看。他关心的只是这演出能勉强过得去，这样他在演出结束后可以有个借口向嘉莉表示祝贺。
但是在最初的惊慌失措以后，演员们已经克服了砸台的危险。他们毫无生气地继续演下去，把原来准备用的表情几乎忘得干干净净，戏演得乏味极了。就在这时候，嘉莉出场了。
赫斯渥和杜洛埃马上看出，她和别人一样，也吓得膝盖发软了。她怯怯地走上舞台，说道：“啊，先生，我们从８点开始就在等你了。”但是她说得那么有气无力缺乏表情，声音又那么微弱，真是令人为她痛苦。
“她吓坏了，”杜洛埃低低地对赫斯渥说。
经理没有吱声。
接下来她应该用开玩笑的口气说一句幽默的台词：“噢，照你这么说，我是你的救命仙丹了。”但是她说得那么平淡，真让人难受得要死。杜洛埃坐立不安了，赫斯渥却一点不动声色。
接下来又有一处，罗拉应该悲伤地预感到灾难迫在眉睫，站起身来幽幽地说：“珍珠，我真希望你当时没说这些话。你该知道张冠李戴这句成语埃”由于缺乏表情，这句话说得可笑之极。嘉莉一点没进入角色，她似乎是在说梦话，看起来她非演砸不可了。她比莫根太太还要糟糕，那位太太倒多少有点镇定下来，至少现在已经能把台词说清楚了。杜洛埃掉头看观众的反应，观众们在默默地忍耐，当然在期待整个演出有个气色。赫斯渥把目光固定在嘉莉身上，似乎想施展慑心术使她演得好一些，用心灵感应把自己的决心灌注到她身上。他真为她难过。
又过了几分钟，该轮到她念那个陌生坏蛋送来的信了。念信前，是那个职业演员和一个叫斯诺盖的角色的对话。斯诺盖是由一个小个子美国人演的。这个角色是个疯疯癫癫的独臂士兵，现在改行当了信差。这小个子演这角色时还真发挥了一点幽默感，让观众耳目略微一新。他用天不怕地不怕的挑战神气大声嚷着他的台词，尽管没有把剧中应有的幽默口气表现出来，演得还是很逗人发笑的。但是现在他下台了，剧情又回到了悲哀的基调。嘉莉是这一幕的主角，可是她还没有克服她的怯常在和强行闯入的歹徒交锋的那场戏里，她演得无精打采，全无生气，让观众无法忍受下去。等她终于下了台，他们才松了口气。
“她太紧张了，”杜洛埃说，自己也感到这批评太温和，没有说出实际状况。
“最好到后台去给她鼓鼓劲。”
杜洛埃很乐意做些什么来改变这令人难堪的局面。他急急绕到侧门，友好的看门人放他进了后台。嘉莉正虚弱地站在舞台的边廊，等着唤她上台的提示，身上的力气和勇气都消失得无影无踪。
“喂，嘉德，”他看着她说道，“你千万别紧张。打起精神来，不要把外面那些家伙放在心上。你有什么好怕的呢？”“我也不知道，”嘉莉说，“我好像演不上来了。”不过她对推销员的来到很感激。看到其他演员都这么紧张，她的勇气也消失了。
“来，”杜洛埃说，“鼓起勇起来。有什么好怕的呢？你现在上台去，好好演一常你有什么要担心的呢？"推销员富有感染力的活跃情绪使嘉莉振作了一些。
“我演得那么糟吗？”
“一点不糟，你只要再加一点生气就行了。就像你上次演给我看的那样。就像那天晚上那样，把你的头这么一扬。”嘉莉想起在家里她演得非常成功，她现在竭力要使自己相信她能演得上来。
“下面是哪一场？”他说着看了一眼她正在研究的台词。
“嗯，就是我拒绝雷埃的那场戏。”
“好，你演这场戏时要活泼一些，”推销员说，“要演得生气勃勃，这是关键。拿出一副满不在乎的劲儿来演戏。”“下面该你了，麦登达小姐，”提示员说。
“啊呀，天哪！”嘉莉说。
“你要是害怕，就是大傻瓜一个，”杜洛埃说，“来吧，振作起来。我就在这里看着你。”“真的？”嘉莉说。
“真的，上台吧，别害怕。”
提示员向她做了一个手势。
她开始往外走，还是像刚才那么虚弱，但是她的勇气突然有点恢复了。她想到杜洛埃在看着她。
“雷埃，”她温柔地说，她的声音比上一场镇定多了。这场戏在排演时曾大得导演的赏识。
“她比刚才镇定多了，”赫斯渥心里想。
她演得没有排演时那么好，但比刚才强多了，观众至少没有反感。整个剧组的演出都有所改善，所以观众没有太注意她的提高。他们现在演得好多了，看来这出戏演得已能将就过去，至少在不太难的那几场里可以过得去了。
嘉莉下台时又激动又紧张。
“怎么样？”她看着他问道，“好一些了吗？”“是啊，好多了。就这样演。要演活它。这一场比刚才要强１０倍，比上一场强多了。继续这样演，情绪高昂些。'镇'他们一下。”“真的比刚才强吗？”
“真的，不骗你。下一场是什么？”
“就是舞会那一常”
“哇！这一场你一定可以演好，”他说。
“我可没有把握，”嘉莉回答。
“喂，丫头，”他叫了起来，“这一场你不是演给我看过吗？
你上了台就这么演，你会感到好玩的。就像在家里那么演。你如果在台上演得像在家时那么流畅，我敢打赌你一定成功。你和我赌什么？你一定行的。”这个推销员往往热心和好意过了火，说起话来就没个分寸了。不过他真的认为嘉莉在舞会那场演得非常出色。他想让她在台上当着观众也这么表演。他这么热情，全是由于当时这种场合的气氛。
到了该上场时，他已卓有成效地给嘉莉打足了气。他开始让她感觉到她似乎确实能演好的。他和她说着话时，她以往的那种渴求和伤感情绪又回到了她身上。剧情进展到该她出场时，她的感情正达到**。
“我想我能演得好。”
“当然，你一定能的。走着瞧吧。”
台上，凡·达姆太太正在含沙射影地对罗拉进行诽谤。嘉莉听着，突然有了一种感触--她也不知道是什么。她的鼻孔轻轻地嗤着。
“这就是说，”扮演雷埃的职业演员正在说，“社交界对于侮辱总是残忍地以牙还牙。你有没有听说过西伯利亚的狼群？
要是有一个狼因为羸弱而倒下，其它的狼就会把它吞吃下去。
我这个比喻不文雅，但是社交界有种品性很像狼。罗拉冒充贵小姐欺骗了社交界，这个装模作样的社交界当然对这种欺瞒切齿痛恨。”听到自己在舞台上的名字，嘉莉吃了一惊，她开始体会到罗拉处境的难堪，体会到被社会遗弃的人的种种感情。她留在舞台的边廊，沉浸在越来越激愤的情绪中，除了自己沸腾的血液，她几乎什么也没有听到。
“来吧，孩子们，”凡·达姆太太道貌岸然地说，“我们要看好自己的东西。有这么一个手段高明的贼进了门，这些东西就得看看牢了。”“该你了，”提示员在她身边说，但她没有听到。她已经在灵感的引导下，迈着优雅的步子沉着镇定地走向前去。她出现在观众面前，显得美丽而高傲。随着剧情的进展，当社交界的群狼轻蔑地将她拒之千里之外时，她渐渐变得冷漠苍白，孤单无依。
赫斯渥吃惊地眨了眨眼睛，受到了感动。嘉莉的真挚感情已像光波照到戏院的最远的角落，打动了剧场中每个观众的心。能令全世界倾倒的激情的魔力现在出现在舞台上。
观众原先散漫的注意力和情感现在都被吸引住了，像铆钉一样牢牢地固定在嘉莉身上。
“雷埃！雷埃！你为什么不回到她身边去？”珍珠在叫。
每双眼睛都盯着嘉莉。她仍然是那么高傲，带着轻蔑的表情。他们随着她的一举一动而移动，目光紧随着她的目光。
演珍珠的莫根太太向她走近。
“我们回家吧，”她说。
“不，”嘉莉回答。她的声音第一次具有一种震撼人心的力量，“你留下来，和他在一起！”她几乎谴责般地用手指着她的情人。接着她又凄然说道：“我不会让他再难受几天了。”这凄楚因其实单纯而更震人心弦。
赫斯渥意识到他现在看到的是杰出的表演艺术。落幕时观众的掌声，加上这是嘉莉演的这个事实，更提高了他对这表演的评价。他现在认识到她的美。她所做的事远远超出于他的能力范围。想到她是他的人，他感到极度的喜悦。
“好极了，”他说道。一阵强烈的冲动使他站起身来，朝后台门走去。
当他进了后台门找到嘉莉时，她仍然和杜洛埃在一起。他的感情汹涌澎湃，为她所表现的艺术力量和情感所倾倒。他真想以情人的满腔热情倾诉他的赞美，偏偏杜洛埃在常杜洛埃对嘉莉的爱也在迅速复苏，他甚至比赫斯渥还着迷，至少他理所当然地表现得更热烈。
“哇，”杜洛埃说，“你演得出色极了。真是了不起。我早就知道你能演好。啊，你真是个迷人的小姑娘。”嘉莉的双眼发出了成功的光辉。
“我真的演得不错吗？”
“还用问吗？当然是真的了。你难道没听到刚才的鼓掌声吗？”直到现在还隐隐传来掌声。
“我也想我演得差不离--我有这感觉。”
就在这时赫斯渥走了进来。他本能地感到了杜洛埃身上的变化。他看出这推销员现在和嘉莉非常亲热，这使他心里马上妒火中烧。他马上懊悔自己不该打发他到后台来，也恨他夹在自己和嘉莉的中间。不过他还是控制住了自己的情感，掩饰得非常之好。他的眼睛里几乎仍然闪着往日那种狡黠的光芒。
“我心里想，”他注视着嘉莉说道，“我一定要到后台来告诉您，您演得有多么出色，杜洛埃太太。真让人愉快。”嘉莉明白了他的暗示，于是答道：“啊，谢谢你。”“我正在告诉她，我认为她演得棒极了，”杜洛埃插进来说。他现在为自己拥有的姑娘洋洋得意。
“是啊，棒极了。”赫斯渥说着和嘉莉四目相交。嘉莉从他的眼里看到了那些无声的话语。
嘉莉开心地大笑。
“如果您在余下的戏里演得像刚才一样好，您会让我们大家认为您是个天生的女演员。”嘉莉又粲然一笑。她体会到赫斯渥痛苦的处境，因此很希望自己能够单独和他在一起。可是她不理解杜洛埃身上的变化。赫斯渥不得不压抑自己的感情，又无时无刻不在妒忌杜洛埃的在场，所以弄得说不出话来，只好以浮士德般的风度鞠躬告退。一到外面，他就妒忌得咬牙切齿。
“该死的！”他心里说，“难道他一直要这么挡住我的道吗？”他回到包厢里情绪很坏，想到自己的不幸处境，连聊天的兴致也没有了。
下一幕的幕布升起时，杜洛埃回到了座位上。他情绪很活跃，很想和赫斯渥说点悄悄话。但是赫斯渥假装在全神贯注地看戏，目光盯在台上，尽管嘉莉还没出常台上演的是一小段她出场前的通俗喜剧场面，但是他并没有注意台上演的是什么，只顾想自己的心事，都是些令人伤心的思绪。
剧情的进展并没有改善他的情绪。嘉莉从现在起轻易地成了人们兴趣的焦点。观众在第一个坏印象以后，本来以为这戏演得糟透了，毫无可取之处。现在他们从一个极端走到另一个极端，在平庸之处也看到了力度。观众的反应使嘉莉感到振奋，她恰如其份地演着自己的角色，尽管并没有第一长幕结束时那种引起人们强烈反响的激情。
赫斯渥和杜洛埃两人看着她的俏丽的身影，爱心更加炽烈。她显示出来的惊人才华，在这种金碧辉煌的场面中效果突出地展露出来，又得到剧情表现的情感和性格的适当烘托，使她在他们眼里更加迷人。在杜洛埃眼里，她已经不是原来那个嘉莉了。他盼望和她一起回家，以便把这些话告诉她。他急不可耐地等着戏终场，等着他们单独回家的时刻。
相反，赫斯渥从她新展露的魅力中更感到自己处境悲惨可怜。他真想诅咒身旁这个情敌。天哪，他甚至连尽情地喝声采也不行。这一次他必须装出无动于衷的样子，这使他心里感到苦涩。
在最后一幕里，嘉莉的两个情人被她的魅力弄得神魂颠倒，到了登峰造极的地步。
赫斯渥听着戏的进展，心里在想嘉莉什么时候会出常他没有等很长时间。剧作家安排剧中的其他人兜风取乐去了，于是嘉莉一个人出场了。可以说这是赫斯渥第一次有机会看到嘉莉一个人面对观众，因为在其他几幕里总有某个陪衬的角色在常她刚出场，他就突然有个感觉，她刚才的感染力，第一幕结束时把他紧紧吸引住的感染力，又回到了她身上。随着整个剧情临近尾声，大显身手的机会眼看没有了，她积蓄的情感似乎越来越高涨。
“可怜的珍珠，”她的悲悯的声音发自肺腑，“生活中缺少幸福已经够不幸的了。可是看到一个人盲目地追求幸福，却与幸福失之交臂，就太惨了。”她哀伤地凝视着外面开阔的海面，一个手臂无力地倚在光亮的门柱上。
赫斯渥对于她的同情油然而生，同时不禁自怨自哀。他简直认为她是在对他说话。她说话的语气和一举一动就像一支忧伤的乐曲，娓娓叙述着自己内心的感受。再加上他自己和嘉莉之间感情的牵缠，更使他产生了这种错觉。悲伤的感情似乎总是对个人而发，具有令人凄恻的力量。
“其实，她和他生活在一起会非常幸福的。”那小女演员在继续往下说，“她的快乐性格和她朝阳般的笑脸会给任何一个家庭带来生气和欢乐。”她慢慢转过身来，面对着观众，但她似乎并没有看到他们。她的举止自然简单，就好像只有她一个人在常然后她在一个桌子旁坐下来，一边信手翻着书，一边仍在想心事。
“我再也不去企盼无望的东西了，”她几近叹息地低低说道，“我再也不在这茫茫世界抛头露面了。这世上除了两个人，谁也不会知道我的下落。那个纯洁的姑娘将会成为他的妻子，我要把她的幸福当作我的幸福。”她的独白被一个叫作桃花的角色打断了，这让赫斯渥感到遗憾。他不耐烦地转动身子，只盼着她继续说下去。她令他着迷--苍白的脸色，婀娜的身影，珠灰色的衣裙，颈子上挂着的珍珠项链。嘉莉看上去疲惫无助，需要人保护。在这感人的戏剧环境中，他的感情越来越激动，他真想走上前去，把她从痛苦中解救出来，自己也从中得些乐趣。
不一会儿，台上又只剩嘉莉一个人了。她正在心情激动地说：“我必须回城里去，不管有什么危险等在那里。我必须去。
能悄悄地去就悄悄地去，不能悄悄去就公开去。”外面传来了马蹄声，接着传来雷埃的声音： “不用了，这马我不骑了。把它牵到马厩去吧。”他走了进来。接下来的这场戏在赫斯渥身上造成的感情悲剧，不亚于他的特殊复杂的生涯带来的影响，因为嘉莉已决心在这一场中大显身手。现在提示的信号表示该轮到她说了，一种激情已控制了她的情绪。赫斯渥和杜洛埃都注意到她的感情越来越激烈。
“我还以为你已经和珍珠一起走了，”她对她的情人说。
“我是和她一起走了一段路。不过只走了一里路我就和他们分手了。”“你和珍珠没有争吵吧？”“没有。噢，是的，我是说我们一直合不来。我们关系的晴雨表总是'多云转阴'。”“是谁不好？”她从容地问道。
“不能怪我，”他悻悻地说，“我知道我尽了力了，什么该说的我都说了--可是她--”这段话巴顿说得相当糟糕。但是嘉莉以她感人的魅力补救了局面。
“不管怎么说，她是你太太。”她说话时将全部的注意力集中在安静下来的男演员身上，声音变得那么轻柔悦耳：“雷埃，我的朋友，婚姻生活中不要忘了谈情说爱时的誓言，你不该对你的婚姻生活发牢骚。”她把她的一双纤手恳求般地紧紧合在一起。
赫斯渥微微张着嘴专注地看着，杜洛埃满意得简直坐不住了。
“作为我的妻子，不错，”那男演员接口说。相形之下，他演得差多了。但是嘉莉已经在台上造成了一种温柔的气氛，这种气氛并没有受到他的影响。她似乎没有感觉到他演得很糟。即使跟她配戏的只是一段木头，她也可以演得几乎一样出色。因为她是在和她想象中的角色对话，其他人的演技影响不了她。
“这么说，你已经懊悔了吗？”她缓缓地说。
“我失去了你，”他说着一把握住她的小手，“所以只要哪个卖弄风情的姑娘给我一点鼓励，我就昏了头。这要怪你不好--你自己知道--你为什么离开了我？”嘉莉慢慢转过身去，好像在暗中竭力克制某种冲动。然后她又转过身来。
“雷埃，”她说，“我最感欣慰的是想到你把自己的全部的爱给了一个贤惠的姑娘，一个在身世、财产和才华上和你相般配的姑娘。瞧你现在和我说的是什么话埃你为什么总和自己的幸福作对呢？"她最后的问题问得那么自然，在观众和情人听来，她的话好像是对他们个人而发。
终于轮到她的情人叫了起来：“让我们恢复以往的关系吧。”嘉莉的回答温柔感人：“我不能像以往那样待你了。过去的罗拉已经死了。不过我可以用罗拉的魂灵和你说话。”“那么你就这样对待我吧，”巴顿说。
赫斯渥身子前倾。所有的观众都肃静无声，全神贯注地注意着台上。
“你所看中的女人不管是聪明还是虚荣，”嘉莉悲伤地凝视着重重倒在椅子里的情人说道，“不管是美丽还是平常，不管是有钱还是贫寒，她只有一样东西可以给你，也可以不给你--那就是她的心。”杜洛埃感到嗓子哽咽了。
“她的美貌，她的智慧，她的才华，这一切她都可以卖给你。但是她的爱是无价之宝，任何金钱也买不到的。”经理觉得这哀诉是对他个人而发，就好像他们俩单独在一起，他几乎忍不住要为他所爱的女子流泪。她是那么孤弱无助，那么悲伤凄婉，又那么妩媚动人，楚楚可怜。杜洛埃也是情不自已，爱得发狂。他决定不能像以往那样对嘉莉了。对，他要娶她！她配做他的太太。
“她只要一样回报，”嘉莉又说，她几乎没有去听演情人的演员无力苍白的回答，而让自己的声音更和谐地溶入乐队所奏的凄凉的音乐中去：“她只想在你的目光中看到忠诚，从你的声音中听到你的温柔多情和仁爱。你不要因为她不能立刻理解你的活跃思想和远大抱负而瞧不起她。因为在你遭受最大的不幸和灾难时，她的爱还会伴随着你，给你以安慰。”她在继续往下说，赫斯渥必须用他最大的意志力才能压抑和控制自己的感情。“你从树那里可以看到力量和高贵，但是不要因为花只有芬芳而鄙视它。”最后，她用温柔的口气说道：“记住，爱是一个女人唯一可以给予的东西。”她着重强调了“唯一”这个词，说得那么奇妙那么亲切。“但是这是上帝允许我们带到阴间去的唯一东西。”这两个男人倍受爱情的煎熬，十分痛苦，几乎没有听到这一场结束时的几句话。他们眼中只看到他们的偶像以迷人的风度在台上走动，继续保持着他们以前从未意识到的魅力。
赫斯渥下了种种决心，杜洛埃也是如此。他们一起使劲鼓掌，要嘉莉出来谢幕。杜洛埃把手掌都拍疼了，然后他跳了起来，往后台走去。他离开时嘉莉又出来谢幕，看到一个特大花篮正从过道上急急送上来，她就站在台上等。这些花是赫斯渥送的，她把目光投向经理的包厢，和他的目光相遇，嫣然一笑。
他真想从包厢里跳出来去拥抱她，全然不顾他的已婚身份需要小心从事，他几乎忘了包厢里还有熟人在常天哪，他一定要把这可爱的姑娘弄到手，哪怕他得付出一切代价！他必须立即行动。这下杜洛埃就要完蛋了，你别忘了这一点。他一天也不愿意再等了，不能让这个推销员拥有她。
他激动万分，包厢里再也坐不住了。他先走到休息室，随后又走到外面街上思索着。杜洛埃没有回包厢。几分钟后最后一幕也结束了。他发疯似地想和嘉莉单独在一起，诅咒自己的运气太糟了，明明想告诉她他有多么爱她，明明想在她耳边说悄悄话，偏偏还必须装模作样地微笑、鞠躬，装作陌路人的样子。看到自己的希望落空，他呻吟了。甚至在带她去吃夜宵时，他还得装出一副客气的样子。最后他走到后台向她问候。
演员们都在卸装穿衣交谈，匆匆走来走去。杜洛埃正在自我陶醉地夸夸其谈，激动和激情溢于言表。经理费了好大的劲才克制了自己的情绪。
“当然我们得去吃点夜宵，”他说。他的声音和他的真实情感大相径庭，成了一种嘲讽。
“哎，好吧，”嘉莉微笑说。
这小女演员兴高采烈，第一次体会到被人宠爱的滋味，有生以来第一次成了受人仰慕被人追求的对象。成功带来的独立意识还只是初露萌芽。她和情人的关系完全颠倒过来了，现在轮到她俯允施惠，不再仰人鼻息了。她还没有充分意识到这一点。但是在她屈尊俯就时，她的神态中有一种说不尽的甜美温柔。当她一切就绪时，他们登上等在那里的马车驶往商业区。她只找到一次机会表达自己的感情，那是当经理在杜洛埃前头登上马车坐在她身边的时候。在杜洛埃上车前，她温柔冲动地捏了一下赫斯渥的手。经理欣喜若狂，为了单独和她在一起，就算要他出卖灵魂也愿意。“啊，” 他心里说，“爱的痛苦啊！”杜洛埃一个劲地缠着嘉莉，自以为他是嘉莉心目中的唯一情人。吃夜宵时他的过份热情使那两个情人大为不快。赫斯渥回家时感到，如果他的爱无法得到发泄，他就要死了。他热烈地对嘉莉悄悄说：“明天。”她听懂了。和推销员以及他的情人分手时，他真恨不得把他杀了，嘉莉也感到很痛苦。
“晚安，”他装出轻松友好的神气说道。
“晚安，”小女演员温情脉脉地说。
“这傻瓜！”他心里在骂。现在他恨透了杜洛埃：“这白痴！
我要让他尝尝我的手段，而且很快！明天走着瞧吧。”
“哇，你真是个奇迹，”杜洛埃捏了捏嘉莉的手臂，心满意足地说，“你真是世上最妩媚可爱的小丫头。”