Chapter 16 Chapter Sixteen Aladdin: The Door to the World

After returning to Chicago from this business trip, Drouet was more concerned about the secret society to which he belonged than before. This is because he had a new understanding of the importance of the secret society when he went out to do business last time. "I'll tell you," another traveling salesman said to him, "it's a big deal. Look at the man Hasenstadt. He's not very clever. Of course he's backed by the firm he belongs to, but the light That's not enough. You know, he's relying on his position in the Society. He's high in the Freemasonry, which helps a lot. He has a secret cut, and that cut represents his identity."

Drouet decided on the spot that he would be more interested in such matters in future. So when he got back to Chicago, he went to see where the local branch of his society was. "Listen, Drouet," said Mr. Harley Quincel, who held an important position in this branch of the Brotherhood, "you can certainly help us solve this problem." The meeting had just ended, and there was lively conversation and pleasantries. Drouet walked up and down the crowd, chatting and joking with a dozen or so acquaintances. "What are your plans?" he asked kindly, smiling to his secret society brother.

"We've been thinking of putting on a show for a fortnight. We'd like to know if you know any girl who could play a part... an easy one." "No problem," said Drouet, "what's the matter?" He didn't bother to think that he didn't really know any girl who could be asked to act. But his natural kindness made him agree. . "Well, I'll tell you what we're going to do," continued Mr. Quincel, "we want to buy a new furniture for the branch. But there's not enough money in the treasury at the moment. So we want to do some entertainment to raise money."

"Yes, that's a good idea," interposed Drouet. "We've got a couple of good boys here. Harley Bill Buick is good at playing niggers, and Mike Lewis can do tragedies. Have you ever heard him read "Over the Hill?" "No." "Then I tell you, he reads very well." "Do you want me to get a lady to play a part?" asked Drouet, anxious to end the subject so that we could talk of something else. "What play are you going to play?" "'Gaslight,'" said Mr. Quincel. He meant the famous play by Augustine Daly. It was a hit in the theaters, and was very popular. It has now been relegated to the repertoire of amateur companies. , the parts that are difficult to perform have been deleted, and the characters in the play have been reduced to the minimum.

Drouet had seen this play before. "Well," said he, "it's a well-chosen play, and it'll do well. You'll make a lot of money." "We think it will work," said Mr. Quincel. "You mustn't forget to find us a lady for the part of Laura." Drouet was fidgeting when he had finished. "Don't worry, I'll do it for you." With that he went away. As soon as Mr. Quincel had finished speaking, he almost forgot about the matter. It did not even occur to him to ask when and where the play was to be performed. A day or two later, Drouet received a letter informing him of the first rehearsal on Friday evening, asking him to give them the lady's address as soon as possible, so that her parts could be sent. Drouet remembered what he promised himself.

"Hell, where do I know anyone?" the salesman thought, scratching his pink ears, "I don't know anyone who can act or play a role." He sifted through the names of the women he knew in his mind, and finally settled on one person. He chose her mainly because her family lived in the West End, so it was easy to find. He planned to find her by the way when he went out at night, but when he He completely forgot about it when he got into the streetcar west, and didn't remember what he was supposed to be doing until at night, when he read the Evening Post, which had a three-line line under the heading Notice to the Secret Society. A little tidbit. It is said that the Coster Branch of the Fraternity will perform at the Affleck Hall on the 16th, and there will be a play of "Gaslight".

"My God," cried Drouet, "I forgot about it." "What's the matter?" asked Carrie. They were sitting at the little table in the room which might serve as the kitchen, where Carrie sometimes dined, and to-night she had prepared a delicious table on a whim. "Well, it's about acting in our branch. They want to act in a play, so please let me find a lady to play a role for them." "Which play do they want to play?" "Under Gaslight." "when?" "Number 16." "Then why don't you find them?" asked Carrie.

"I don't know anybody," he answered. He looked up suddenly. "Hey, how about you take the part?" he asked. "Me?" said Carrie, "I can't act." "How do you know you can't?" asked Drouet thoughtfully. "Because I've never acted," replied Carrie. But she was still delighted at Drouet's proposal, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. If anything interested her, it was stage art. Drouet, in accordance with his old temper, once had this easy way of doing things, he clung to it. "It's not difficult, you can play that role in the play well.

"No, I can't do it." Carrie objected weakly, fascinated by the proposal, and yet timid. "I say you can do it. Why don't you try it? They need men, and you can have fun with it." "No, no," said Carrie earnestly. "You'll like it, I know you will. I've seen you dance at home, and I've seen you imitate other people, and that's why I asked you to play. You're smart, and you'll do well." "No, I'm not clever," she said shyly. "Then listen to what I tell you. You'll be very happy when you go to the rehearsal. The rest of the troupe are no good. They have no experience. What do they know about acting?"

He frowned at the thought of their ignorance. "Pass me the coffee, please," he added. "I don't believe I can act, Charlie," said Carrie coquettishly; "you don't believe I can act either, do you?" "Where, you're going to be great. I bet you'll be a hit. You said yes, didn't you? I knew you would. I knew you would when I got home, so I asked you." "What play did you just say?" "Under Gaslight". "Which part did they want me to play?" "Oh, one of the heroines, I don't remember which one either."

"What's that play about?" "Well," said Drouet, who doesn't have the best memory in such matters, "it's about a girl who's abducted by two rascals... a boy and a girl in the slums... She's got some money or something they're trying to take from her, exactly I don't remember now." "Don't you remember what part I was supposed to play?" "No, to tell you the truth, I don't remember." He thought for a moment. "Oh, yes, I remember, Laura! Yes, that's the part. . . You're going to play Laura." "You don't remember what that character was like?" "My God, I can't remember. Carrie," he answered, "I should remember, I've seen the play several times. There's a girl in it who was stolen as a child... ...was picked up in the street or something...she's been stalked by those two thugs...the same two guys I just told you about." He paused He got down, held a small piece of pie on the fork in his hand, and held it up in front of her, "She almost drowned...... Oh, no, that's not the case. I'll tell you what to do Well," he said at last, helplessly, "I'll get you that book. It's killing me to remember it now." "I really don't know if I can do it," said Carrie. After he had finished, she struggled fiercely with her thoughts, her love of the theater and her desire to appear on the stage trying to outdo her timidity, "if you If I think I'm okay, maybe I can try it." "Of course, you can," said Drouet. His own interest rose as he encouraged Carrie. "If I didn't think you would succeed, would I come home and encourage you to do it? You can act." Well, this will do you good." "When shall I go?" asked Carrie thoughtfully. "First rehearsal Friday night, I'll get you your lines tonight." "Well," said Carrie no longer protesting, "I'll do it. But if it goes wrong, it'll be your fault." "It won't go wrong," said Drouet encouraging her; "you'll be at home when you act. Be natural, and you'll be good. I've often thought you'd be a very good actress. " "Did you really think so?" asked Carrie. "It's true," said the salesman. When he left her alone that night, he had no idea what secret fire had kindled in the girl of his. Carrie was naturally sentimental and impressionable. The highest stage of this temperament was Is the great drama. The Creator endowed her with a sensitive soul, which reflected the active outside world like a mirror. She was naturally imitative, and in this respect she had a taste that required little practice. She could sometimes reproduce her in front of the mirror. The dramatic scenes she has seen, imitate the expressions and demeanor of each character in these scenes. She likes to imitate the traditional tragic heroine's voice, and retell the sad parts that move her most. Recently, she has seen several well-conceived plays Later, she was attracted by the light and graceful movements of those innocent girls in the play, and secretly imitated their elegant postures at home, repeating those small physical movements and expressions. Drouet discovered it several times, He thought she was admiring herself in the mirror, but in fact she was just recalling the beautiful expressions of mouths or eyes she had seen in others. Under his slight reproach, she herself mistook it for vanity, and said apologetically. Accepted his criticism. In fact, it was just the natural expression of her artistic nature, striving to perfectly reproduce certain forms of beauty that attracted her. You know, all dramatic art stems from this weak tendency to strive to reproduce life. and will. Hearing Drouet speak so highly of her acting talent, she was satisfied and lifted up her spirits. She had some sporadic feelings about her latent acting talent, but she couldn't believe it. Now his words woven these tiny feelings Became a colorful fabric of hope, like flames welding loose pieces of metal into a solid whole. Like others, she was a little vain. She thought she could do something if she had the chance. .When she looked at the gorgeously dressed actresses on the stage, she imagined more than once what she would be like if she played this role on stage, and how happy she would be if she was in their seats. Brilliant The charisma of the stage, the tense plot, the beautiful costumes, and the applause of the audience deeply attracted her, and made her feel that she could also act...and let others recognize her talent. Now someone Tell her she can really act... Drouet, too, was made aware of her abilities by her imitations at home. She was delighted when she thought so. After Drouet had gone, she sat down in her rocking chair by the window to think about it. As usual, her chances were greatly exaggerated by her imagination. It was as if he had put a fifty cents in her hand, and she But imagined it as a thousand dollars. She imagined herself appearing in dozens of sad scenes, making painful gestures, and speaking with a trembling voice. She also enjoyed imagining all kinds of luxurious and elegant scenes, In these scenes, she is the focus of people's attention, the goddess of fate. She is shaking in the rocking chair, feeling the deep pain of being abandoned by her lover for a while, the anger of being cheated for a while, and the discouragement and depression of failure for a while. Sadness. The beauties she saw in various plays, the various imaginations and illusions she had about the stage...these thoughts flooded into her heart like sea water rising after ebb tide. She accumulated in her heart So much emotion and determination, it is beyond the need of this acting opportunity. On his way to the town, Drouet stopped by the branch of the Society. When Quincel saw him, he looked very pleased with himself. "Where is the lady you promised to find us?" Quincel asked him. "I have found it," replied Drouet. "Really?" Quincel was a little surprised at how quickly he had found the actor. "That's good. What's her address?" He took out his notebook to jot it down so he could send her his lines. "You're going to send her the lines," said the salesman. "yes." "Well, I'll take it to you. I'll pass her door tomorrow morning." "Where did you say she lives? We need to leave an address, and if we have any notices, we can send them to her." "No. 29, Oden Square." "what is her name?" "Carrie Madonda," said the salesman casually, who was known to the branch as a bachelor. "That name sounds like a showman, doesn't it?" said Quincel. "Yes, that's what happened." He took his lines home and handed them to Carrie. He handed them to her with an air of grace on his face. "He said this role is the best, do you think you can play it?" "I won't know until I read the lines. You can't imagine how scared I was when I promised to try." "Well, be more courageous. What have you to be afraid of? The whole team is very poor, and the others are not as good as you." "Okay, I'll try." Despite her timidity, she was happy to get the lines. He turned sideways, straightened his clothes, and fidgeted and coyly for a while before moving on to the next thing. "They're printing the program," he said, "and I'm giving you Carrie Maddenda. Do you think that's okay?" "All right," replied his companion. Looking up at him, she felt that there was something strange about the matter. "You know, I was afraid that if you screwed up," he said again. "Oh, yes," she answered, and was glad now, and thought he had been very thoughtful. It was a clever thing for Drouet to do. "I don't want to introduce you to them as my wife. I'm afraid it will be more embarrassing if you fail. They know me very well. But you will succeed. Anyway, from now on you Maybe never meet any of them again." "Well, I don't mind," she said desperately, determined now to try out this fascinating thing. Drouet breathed a sigh of relief. He had been dreading to speak of marriage again. When Carrie read the script, she found Laura to be a tortured and tear-jerking character. As described by the playwright, Mr. Daly, the play was in accordance with the most sacred traditions of the melodrama, which had not changed since he was a playwright. The sad and painful gestures, the weeping music, the long explanatory speeches make the plot advance layer by layer, and the elements of melodrama are not missing. "Oh, poor man," read Carrie, reading the line, drawn out with pity, "Martin, don't forget to get him a drink when he goes away." She was surprised that her lines were only a few pages long. She didn't expect that when other characters spoke, she would have to be on stage, not only on stage, but also in line with the progress of the plot. "But I think I can do it," she said at last. When Drouet came home next evening, Carrie was very pleased with the results of her day's research. "Hey, Gard, how's it going?" he asked. "That's right," she said with a bright smile, "I think I can recite almost everything." "That's great," he said, "let's hear your lines." "Well, I don't know if I can stand here and give my lines," she said wryly. "Why not? It's always easier to say your lines at home than on stage." "I'm not sure of that," she answered. She did the after-dance scene at last. She was very absorbed in the performance, and as the plot progressed, she completely forgot about Drouet's presence, and her emotions reached a sublimated state. "Good!" said Drouet, "very well. You'll do well, Carrie, really." He was really touched by her brilliance. It was lovely how her little body swayed a little, and finally she fell in a swoon. He jumped up and put his arms around her. Now she was in his arms. giggle. "Aren't you afraid of falling and hurting yourself?" he asked. "not at all." "Hey, you're amazing. I never knew you could play so well." "Nor did I think," said Carrie cheerfully, her face flushed with excitement. "I say, you will do well," said Drouet; "I assure you that you will not fail."