sister carrie

Chapter 56 (2)

Chapter 32 The Banquet of Porteshazard: A Prophet to Be Deciphered (2)
Along the way Carrie noticed the scene of pleasure-seeking.There are many horse-drawn carriages and even more pedestrians. On Jiutiao Street, streetcars are also crowded.On Jiutiao Street and Fifth Street, some newly opened hotels around Prachai Square are brightly lit, indicating that they are luxurious hotel locations.The fifth street is the residential area of ​​the rich, and there are bustling vehicles and gentlemen in evening gowns coming and going.At the Shirley's a pompous porter opened the carriage door and escorted them out.Young Ames held Carrie's elbow as he helped her up the steps.They entered an aisle already crowded with patrons, took off their coats, and entered a luxurious dining room.

Never in Carrie's life had she seen anything like this.Hurstwood's improved condition during the whole time she had been in New York did not permit him to take her to such a place.There was an imperceptible air here that convinced the newcomer that life was just as it should be.This is exactly the kind of place where, due to the high cost, the people who come here are not limited to the wealthy or those who like to have fun.Carrie had often read about the hotel in the Morning and Evening Papers.She had followed the news of the dances, teas, and dinners at Shirley's.Miss So-and-so will have a tea party at the Shirley Hotel on Wednesday evening.Mr. So-and-so's son will entertain some friends at the Shirley's on the sixteenth.The routine, rigid news of these social events, which she rarely failed to read every day, gave her a clear idea of ​​the luxury and luxury of this palace of feasting.Now she was at last among them.She ascended the imposing steps, guarded by portly porters on either side.She looked up that passage too, where another burly gentleman was guarding, and some young men in livery tended to canes, coats, and such.Ah, here is the magnificent dining room, decorated with brilliance, this is the place where rich old people eat.Ah, how happy Mrs. Vance is, young, beautiful, and rich--at least to be here in a carriage.How wonderful it must be to be rich.

Vance led the way, through a narrow aisle formed by a long row of ornate dining tables, where groups of two, three, four, five, or six sat scattered.The self-confidence and dignity of these people were all very evident to the fledgling eye.The scorching light, the blinding reflections of the shiny glasses, and the gilding of the surrounding walls, merged into a hue that required leisurely observation to distinguish.The bosoms of the snow-white shirts of the gentlemen and the brightly colored dresses of the ladies were adorned with diamonds, jewels, and beautiful feathers--all of them resplendent.

Carrie walked with a manner comparable to that of Mrs. Vance, and she took the seat the head waiter had assigned her.She was sensitive to all the very little things--the little servility and solicitude of the American-paid waiters and head waiters.The manner in which the head waiter pulled out each chair and waved them to their seats was worth a few bucks in itself.

After sitting down, the luxurious, wasteful and unhealthy eating and drinking that American rich and old people are accustomed to began.The large menu listed a series of dishes, enough to feed an army of soldiers.The price listed on the side can turn a reasonable expense into a ridiculous inexplicable thing-a soup costs fifty cents or even one yuan.There are a dozen kinds to choose from, and there are forty ways to burn oysters, five or six of which cost six cents.The price of cold dishes, fish, and meat is so high that it can cost a night in an ordinary hotel.On this printed gourmet menu, one yuan five, two yuan seems to be the minimum price.

Carrie noticed this.She scrutinized the price of the chicks, which brought her back to another occasion and another menu.It was the first time she had ever sat down with Drouet in a big Chicago restaurant.It was just a moment--a sad note from an old song--and it was gone.But, for a split second, another Carrie could be seen—poor, starving, cornered Carrie, and the whole of Chicago was a cold, ostracizing world where she had to wander because She can't find work.

There are various colorful patterns on the wall, small light green and blue squares, matched with gorgeous gold-plated frames, and carvings of flowers and fruits on the corners, and the chubby little Cupid is flying in an angelic atmosphere.The ceiling, gilded polychrome, framed the center, from which shone golden lights--a cluster of fiery lamps, mingling gleaming prisms and gilded marl scrolls.The floor was reddish, waxed and polished, and there were glass mirrors on all sides--tall, dazzling, bevelled mirrors--figures, faces, lampstands, all of them. It came out, reflected out, a dazzling scene.

The table itself was nothing special, but the tablecloth had Shirley's on it, the silverware had Tiffany Jewelers & Goldsmiths' number on it, and the china had Haviland's number on it.Under the small red lampshade, the light was bright red, and the colors on the wall were reflected on the clothes and faces of the guests.All this makes the dining table look extraordinary.When each teahouse bowed to the guests, it stepped back with its right foot, and the various manners and expressions when touching and arranging the utensils and food added to the noble and elegant atmosphere.The waiter entertained each guest individually, stood at the side half bent, listened to the guest with his ears sideways, put his hands on his hips, and reported: "Here comes the soup—turtle, yes. One serving, yes. Oysters—of course—half a dozen—yes. Reeds. Olive cables—yes.”

Treat every guest the same.Vance took the order and asked for advice and suggestions.Carrie studied the dining-room with wide eyes.This is what upper-class life in New York looks like.That's how Mr. Kuo spent their days and nights.Her poor little soul could not help thinking that this was the case for the wealthy in all society.Every pretty woman must be crowded in the crowd on Broadway in the afternoon, in the theater during a matinee, and in a carriage at night in a restaurant.There must have been bright lights everywhere, and there was a carriage waiting outside, with a coachman standing by, and she had nothing to share.In the long two years, she has never been to such a place even once.

Vance can be called an expert here, just like Hurstwood back then.He ordered whatever he wanted: soup, oysters, roasts, cold basins, etc., and ordered a few bottles of wine in wicker baskets by the side of the table.

Ames was looking aimlessly at the crowd in the restaurant.In Carrie's eyes his profile looked all right.He had a high forehead, a large, straight nose, and a rather flattering chin.He had a nice, wide, good-looking mouth and dark brown hair parted on one side.Carrie thought he was still a little childish, but grown up again.

"You know," he said, turning to Carrie after a moment's reflection, "I sometimes think it's a shame to squander money like this."

Carrie looked at him, not without wonder for a moment at his seriousness.He seemed to be thinking about something, and that was exactly what she had never thought about.

"Really?" she replied with interest.

"Yes," he said, "they're paying far more than they're worth. It's all about showing off."

"I don't understand why people can't spend money when they have money," said Mrs. Vance.

"It won't do any harm," said Vance.He's still studying the menu, even though he's already ordered.

Ames looked away again, and Carrie looked away again at his brow.It seemed to her that he was thinking strange things.There was a soft look in his eyes as he surveyed the crowd.

"Look at what that woman is wearing over there," he said, turning again to Carrie and nodding in that direction.

"Where?" said Carrie, following his eyes.

"In the corner--the far side. Do you see that brooch?"

"Isn't it big?" said Carrie.

"I've never seen such a large string of jewels," said Arms.

"Yes, isn't it?" said Carrie.She felt as though she were happy to agree with the young man, and at the same time, perhaps before that, she had had a vague sense that he was better educated than she—he was better than she.He seemed to be, and Carrie's saving grace was that she could admit that one could be wiser.In her life she had also met people who reminded her of what she vaguely called learned people.This robust young man, who was now beside her, was handsome and had a grasp of the meaning of things which she could not yet comprehend but which she sympathized with.Not bad for a man, she thought.

The conversation turned to a book that was very popular at the time--Albert Roth's "Girls' Development", which Mrs. Vance had read.Vance had seen it discussed in some of the papers.

"It's easy for a man to become famous when he writes a book," said Vance, "and I've seen a lot of talk about this fellow Ross." He looked at Carrie as he said this.

"I haven't heard of him," said Carrie honestly.

"Oh, I've heard," said Mrs. Vance, "that he's written quite a few things. The last one is a good one."

"He's not very good," said Arms.

Carrie turned her eyes to him, as devoutly as inspired.

"His stuff is almost as bad as Dora Sanner."

Carrie felt it was a reproach to her.She'd seen "Dora Sanner," or at least a good deal of the stories that had been published in previous issues.She thought it was just okay, but she guessed people thought it was well written.Now the bright-eyed, quick-witted young man, who in her eyes was no more than a student, mocked the work.He thought it lame and not worth reading.She lowered her head, feeling incomprehensible pain for the first time.

But Ames didn't speak in a sarcastic or supercilious tone.He has very little of these things.It seemed to Carrie that this was a well-intentioned thought from a higher perspective--right thinking.She also wondered what else was right in his opinion.He seemed to sense that she was listening to him, and more sympathetically, so that from then on he talked to her more or less.

The waiter bowed and took a step back, felt the dishes were still hot, brought spoons, knives and forks, and did other trivial things attentively, so that customers could further feel the luxurious style of the place. Ames, too, leaned to one side, talking to her about Indianapolis with relish.He is really smart, mainly manifested in his mastery of electrical knowledge.Yet his sensitivity and sympathy for other cultures and people of all kinds was also strong and passionate.The light fell on his head, making it a light brown color, and there was a bright twinkle in his eyes.Carrie noticed all these things as he leaned towards her, and she felt that he was indeed young.This man is far stronger than herself.He seemed wiser than Hurstwood, clearer and wiser than Drouet, innocent and pure in heart.She also found him very likable.She also noticed this: his concern for her was from afar.She had no place in his life.It had nothing to do with the things in his life, but well, when he told them, the words touched her heart.

"I don't want to get rich," he said to her during the dinner, drunk and excited, "I don't want to be so rich and squander to such a degree."

"Oh, don't you want to?" said Carrie.It was a new attitude for her, and it could not but have had a strong effect on her for the first time.

"No," said he. "What's the good of being rich? One doesn't need such things in order to be happy."

Carrie could not help wondering about it, but since it came from him it certainly carried weight with her.

"Maybe he can still be happy alone," she thought, "he's so strong."

Mr. and Mrs. Vance interjected continually, and Ames delivered these memorable words in fits and starts.Suffice it to say, however, for Carrie was impressed, if not by words, by the atmosphere associated with the young man.In him, or in the world he lived in, there was something that deeply touched her heart.He reminded her of scenes he had seen on the stage--sorrow and sacrifice caused by something she could not understand.Some of the bitterness caused by the contradiction between this present life and her old life was relieved by him, and in this role he played all in a way that was characteristic of him. A serene demeanor.

When they came out, he took her arm and helped her into the car.Then, the car started and walked towards the theater.

During the intermission Carrie listened attentively to what he had to say.He told of some of the episodes in the play that she admired most—the ones that moved her deeply.

"Do you think being an actor is a good thing?" she asked once.

"I see yes," he said, "to be an actor. I see the theater as a great thing."

This little approval alone made Carrie's heart pound.Ah, if only she'd be an actress--a good one! The man's a smart guy--he understands--he's for it.People like him would appreciate her if she made a good actress.She thought he was a good talker, just now, although what he said did not involve her at all.As for why she had such an idea, even she herself couldn't explain it clearly.

When the play was about to end, he suddenly knew that he was not going the same way as them.

"Oh, is it?" said Carrie involuntarily.

"Oh, yes," he said, "I got off at the nearby No. 30 Santiao Street."

Carrie had no other words to say, but the event shocked her greatly.She was rather chagrined that a pleasant evening was coming to an end, but she thought there was more than half an hour to go.Oh, this half hour! The minutes and minutes of this world! What misfortune and misery it is filled with!
She forced herself to say goodbye indifferently.What else can I do? It seems deserted in the carriage.

She was thinking that as she walked into her apartment.She wondered if she would ever see this man again.What great difference would it make--what great difference would it make?
Hurstwood had gone home and gone to bed.His clothes were tossed aside.Carrie went to the door, met him, and withdrew.She doesn't want to go in yet, she has to think about it, she is not happy to go in.

Back in the dining room, she sat in the rocking chair, rocking.As she thought, her little hands clenched tightly.She began to see clearly through the fog of longing and conflicting desires.Oh, all the hopes and sympathies--the sorrows and pains! She swayed, and she began to see clearly.

(End of this chapter)