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the clothing of the two, both of quality and age, but this difference

was not especially noticeable. It served, however, to augment Carrie's

dissatisfaction with her state.

 

The walk down Broadway, then as now, was one of the remarkable features

of the city. There gathered, before the matinee and afterwards, not

only all the pretty women who love a showy parade, but the men who love

to gaze upon and admire them. It was a very imposing procession of

pretty faces and fine clothes. Women appeared in their very best hats,

shoes, and gloves, and walked arm in arm on their way to the fine shops

or theatres strung along from Fourteenth to Thirty-fourth Streets.

Equally the men paraded with the very latest they could afford. A

tailor might have secured hints on suit measurements, a shoemaker on

proper lasts and colors, a hatter on hats. It was literally true that

if a lover of fine clothes secured a new suit, it was sure to have its

first airing on Broadway. So true and well understood was this fact,

that several years later a popular song, detailing this and other facts

concerning the afternoon parade on matinee days, and entitled "What

Right Has He on Broadway?" was published, and had quite a vogue about

the music halls of the city.

 

In all her stay in the city, Carrie had never heard of this showy

parade; had never even been on Broadway when it was taking place. On

the other hand, it was a familiar thing to Mrs. Vance, who not only

knew of it as an entity, but had often been in it, going purposely to

see and be seen, to create a stir with her beauty and dispel any

tendency to fall short in dressiness by contrasting herself with the

beauty and fashion of the town.

 

Carrie stepped along easily enough after they got out of the car at

Thirty-fourth Street, but soon fixed her eyes upon the lovely company

which swarmed by and with them as they proceeded. She noticed suddenly

that Mrs. Vance's manner had rather stiffened under the gaze of

handsome men and elegantly dressed ladies, whose glances were not

modified by any rules of propriety. To stare seemed the proper and

natural thing. Carrie found herself stared at and ogled. Men in

flawless top-coats, high hats, and silver-headed walking sticks elbowed

near and looked too often into conscious eyes. Ladies rustled by in

dresses of stiff cloth, shedding affected smiles and perfume. Carrie

noticed among them the sprinkling of goodness and the heavy percentage

of vice. The rouged and powdered cheeks and lips, the scented hair,

the large, misty, and languorous eye, were common enough. With a start

she awoke to find that she was in fashion's crowd, on parade in a show

place--and such a show place! Jewelers' windows gleamed along the path

with remarkable frequency. Florist shops, furriers, haberdashers,

confectioners--all followed in rapid succession. The street was full

of coaches. Pompous doormen in immense coats, shiny brass belts and

buttons, waited in front of expensive salesrooms. Coachmen in tan

boots, white tights, and blue jackets waited obsequiously for the

mistresses of carriages who were shopping inside. The whole street

bore the flavor of riches and show, and Carrie felt that she was not of

it. She could not, for the life of her, assume the attitude and

smartness of Mrs. Vance, who, in her beauty, was all assurance. She

could only imagine that it must be evident to many that she was the

less handsomely dressed of the two. It cut her to the quick, and she

resolved that she would not come here again until she looked better.

At the same time she longed to feel the delight of parading here as an

equal. Ah, then she would be happy!

 

 

Chapter XXXII

THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR--A SEER TO TRANSLATE

 

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 humor. 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

colored 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 hothouses 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--

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 tonight."

 

"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 theatre 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 color 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

parlor.

 

"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 practiced 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 at 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 color, square spots of robin's-egg blue,

set in ornate frames of gilt, whose corners were elaborate moldings of

fruit and flowers, with fat cupids hovering in angelic comfort. On the

ceilings were colored traceries with more gilt, leading to a center

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.







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