sister carrie

Chapter 79 (2)

Chapter 44 This Is Not a Demon's Nest: What Gold Can't Buy (2)
"Well, you're here anyway. Can you come over now and come to dinner with me? And where do you live?"

"At the Wellington Hotel," said Carrie, with some pride in her accent.

"Oh, is it?" exclaimed Mrs. Vance.For her, the name is not without function.

Mrs. Vance deftly avoided the subject of Hurstwood.Of course she couldn't help thinking of him.There was no doubt that Carrie had left him.This is what she guessed.

"Oh, I can't make it tonight," said Carrie. "I don't really have much time. I must be back here by 07:30, and you'll eat with me, will you?"

"I'd love to, but not tonight," said Mrs. Vance, studying Carrie's pretty face.Carrie's good fortune made her more dignified and more agreeable in Mrs. Vance's eyes. "I promised to be home at six o'clock." She continued, looking at the little gold watch hanging on her breast, "I must go. Tell me when you can come."

"Oh, whenever you want," said Carrie.

"Well, tomorrow, then. I'm staying at the Chelsea Hotel now."

"Moved again?" Carrie laughed.

"Yes. You know I can't stay in one place for six months. I just like to move. Well, remember - 05:30."

"Not to forget," said Carrie, casting a glance at her as she went away.At this time, she thought that now she is no worse than this woman, maybe even better.When others show enthusiasm and concern for her, it makes her feel that she has a slightly higher status and can treat others with humility.

Now, as the days went by, the letters that came in were brought to her by the porter at the Casino Theater.The situation developed rapidly after Monday.What was said in the letter, she knew very well that love letters were old rules, but she just took the gentlest way.She remembered getting her first love letter back in Columbia City.After this, as a member of the chorus, she received other letters--one of the gentlemen asking for a date with her.This was already material for her and Laura's fun.Laura took a few too, which they both usually joked about.

But now the letters came more and more quickly.The rich gentlemen did not hesitate to confess that, besides their own virtues, they had horses and carriages.For example, a letter like this one:

"I have 100 million yuan in my own name. I can make you enjoy all the luxury in the world. As long as you ask, there is nothing you can't enjoy. I say this not to show that I am rich, but because I love you and wish to grant your every wish. It is out of love that I am writing this letter. Will you give me half an hour to express my wish?"

The letters Carrie received when she was still in No. 17 Street were somewhat more amusing to read—though never really happy—that is, compared with her stay at the luxurious Wellington Hotel. Word.Even on that side, her vanity--or self-admiration, in its extreme form, vanity--was not sufficiently gratified to arouse her boredom.She liked flattery, in whatever form it took, as long as it was fresh.However, she still has such a cleverness to distinguish her situation back then from her new situation now.In the past, she had never had fame, never had money.Now there were; in the past, she had never enjoyed flattery or affection, and now there were.Why? She couldn't help smiling at the thought that men would suddenly find her so cute.The result was at least to contribute to her coldness and indifference.

"Look here," she said to Laura, "look at what this man said—'If only I'd been given half an hour,'" she said in that limp way, "how strange! The men aren't so boring Is it gone?"

"This man must have a lot of money, just look at his tone of voice." Laura said.

"That's what they all say," said Carrie innocently.

"Then why don't you see him," Laura said, "and hear what he has to say?"

"I really don't want to," said Carrie. "I know what he's going to say. I don't want to see anybody like this."

Laura looked at her with large, playful eyes.

"He won't hurt you," she replied, "you might as well play tricks on him."

Carrie shook her head.

"You are so queer," said the blue-eyed soldier.

Fortune is always the icing on the cake.For a whole week, even though she hadn't received that high salary, it seemed that the whole world knew her and trusted her.Without money—at least not the necessary money—she enjoyed all the luxuries that money could buy.All the wonderful places, you don't need to ask for anything, the door is open for her.How magically these palace-like rooms belonged to her.Mrs. Vance had her splendid rooms at the Chelsea Hotel--but these rooms were hers.Men sent flowers, love letters, and offered her wealth.But her dream was still in a commotion. 150 bucks! 150 bucks! This is literally the cave full of treasures that Aladdin's lamp will turn on.Circumstances came over her every day, and she fantasized about what her fate must be. There was so much money, and it was going to be added, multiplied.She imagined all kinds of joy--lights of joy never before seen on land or sea.Then, after all the anticipation, I finally got the first 150 yuan.

It was bills paid—three twenty-dollar bills, six ten-dollar bills, and six five-dollar bills.With this combination, it becomes a roll of banknotes that is easy to carry.The cashier who paid her added a smile and a hello.

"Ah, yes," said the cashier, as she went to draw the money, "Miss Mactonda—one hundred and fifty dollars. The scene seems to be a very successful one."

"Yes, very successfully," replied Carrie.

The next person who came to collect the money was an unimportant character in the troupe, who changed her tone when she heard the greeting.

"How much?" said the same cashier, very harshly.It was a man waiting for a small wage, just like she had been a few days ago.It reminded her of weeks in the shoe factory, almost like a servant, receiving—or receiving a boon—four dollars and a half a week from a pompous foreman—the foreman, handing out wages. At that time, the air was like a prince giving alms to a group of petitioning servants.She knew that just today, over there in Chicago, the rooms of the same shoe factory were full of poor, shabby girls working the long rows of crackling machines.Every Saturday, they would gather together to get a little pay for a job that was a hundred times harder than hers now, and she was one of them back then.Oh, it's so much more comfortable now! The world is so bright.She was so excited that she had to go back to the hotel and think about what she was going to do.

If her desires were emotional, it wouldn't take long for Qian's impotence to become clear.With 150 dollars in hand, Carrie didn't know what to buy in particular.The money itself is like something tangible, tangible and visible. It was fun for the first few days, but it passed quickly.The hotel bill doesn't use the money.The clothes on her body can still be satisfactory for a while, and after another day or two, she will get another 150 yuan.In order to maintain her current life, it seemed that the money was not urgently needed at all.As for her, if she really wants to improve her situation, or climb to a higher level, then she must have more money—far more money than she has now.

Now a critic has come to interview her for a pompous and observant interview, entertaining the reader by revealing the critic's wit and the celebrity's silliness.He liked Carrie, and said so openly--but adding that she was only pretty and kind and lucky.It was bone-chillingly cold. A reception hosted by the Herald to raise money for the Free Ice Foundation honored her by inviting her to volunteer at the event, along with other celebrities.She had been interviewed by a young author who had a play and thought she might manage to act it.It's a pity that she can't judge.Thinking of this made her sad, and later she found that she had to deposit the money in the bank just to be safe.Thus it occurred to her at last that the door to a good life had not yet been opened.

Slowly, she began to think that it was all just because it was summer.There isn't much entertainment at the moment other than the kind of shows that feature her as the star.The doors and windows of the fifth street are closed, and the rich have left their magnificent mansions to escape the summer heat.Madison Street is slightly better.Broadway is flooded with wandering tragedies looking for contracts for next season.The whole town was peaceful, and her evenings were devoted to her own work.So it feels like the eyes have nothing to do.

"I just wonder," she said to Laura one day, sitting in a window overlooking Broadway, "I feel lonely, how about you?"

"No," said Laura, "I don't really think it's your fault that you don't want to go out."

"Where can I go?"

"Oh, there's plenty of room," Laura replied.All she could think of was her having a good time with some fun-loving lads, "You just don't like hanging out with anyone."

"I just don't like going out with people who write to me. I know what kind of people they are."

"You shouldn't be too alone," said Laura, thinking of Carrie's success in her career. "There are people who will do anything to get where you are."

Carrie looked out of the window again at the hurrying crowd.

"I don't know," she said.

Her idle hands began to tire unconsciously.

(End of this chapter)