Chapter 18 Chapter 18 First Arrival in the Lobby: Cheers and Farewell

By the evening of the 16th, Hurstwood had done his best. He spread word among his friends that the show was worth seeing...and his friends were not only numerous but powerful. . . . and Mr. Quincel, the branch officer, sold a large number of theater tickets. All the dailies sent a four-line newsletter about it. This was done by his friend in the press, Harley McGregor. Mr. Glenn did it. Mr. McGlenn is the editor of the Chicago Times. "Well, Harley," Hurstwood said to McGllane one night, as he was having a drink or two at the tavern counter before going home, "I see you can do the boys in the branch a favor."

"What's the matter?" asked Mr. McGloan, much to his delight that the rich manager thought highly of him. "The Coster branch is putting on a little show for fundraising, and they'd love a newspaper to get an announcement. You know what I mean... a couple of sentences to say when and where it's going to be." It's just a show." "No problem," said McGloan, "I can do it for you, George." Hurstwood himself remained in the background all this time. The Custer branch could hardly comprehend the popularity of their trinkets. Mr. Quincel was then looked upon as a genius for running such a thing.

On the 16th, Hurstwood's friends flocked to the show, as if the Romans had heard their senator's call. From the moment Hurstwood decided to help Carrie, it was certain that all who went to the show would be These well-dressed, well-intentioned people who want to join in the show. The primary school student in the drama world had already mastered the performance of her role, and she was quite satisfied. Although she couldn't help trembling with fright at the thought of acting in front of a full audience under the strong lights of the stage, she was worried about her fate. She tried to reassure herself that there were twenty other people, men and women, trembling with nervousness at the outcome of the performance. But it was no use. She could not think of the possibility of total failure without thinking of her personal failure. The possibility. She worried that she would forget the words temporarily, and worried that she would not be able to express her understanding of the emotional changes of the characters on the stage. Sometimes she really wished that she hadn’t participated in this matter. Sometimes she She was also worried that she would be petrified when she got on the stage, and would just stand on the stage pale and panting, not knowing what to say, and the whole performance would fall into her hands. This possibility made her tremble with fear.

In the cast, Mr. Bamberger has been eliminated. The irredeemable gentleman had to withdraw under the sharp criticism of the director. Mrs. Morgan was still in the cast, but she was terribly jealous, for nothing but this. She was also determined to play at least as well as Carrie. An out-of-work actor was brought in for the part of Ray. Although he was just a bad actor, he wasn't like those actors who didn't show their faces before the audience. Suspenseful, anxious. Although he had been warned not to mention his former connections with the theater world, he walked around with such pomp and confidence that circumstantial evidence alone was enough to let others know What kind of food did he eat?

"Acting is easy," he said to Mrs. Morgan in the tone of a stage sermon. "I don't worry about the audience at all. You know, it's the temperament of the character that's hard." Carrie didn't like the way he looked. But she was a good actress, and put up with his qualities meekly. She knew she would have to put up with his affectations that evening. At 6 o'clock, she was ready to go. The costumes for acting were provided by the organizer, so she didn't have to worry about it. In the morning, she tried on her make-up, and at 1 o'clock the rehearsal was over, and all the things for acting in the evening were ready And then she went home and read her lines one last time before night came.

The branch sent a carriage to fetch her for the performance that evening. Drouet rode with her to the entrance of the theatre, and got off to buy some good cigars in a nearby shop. The little actress went away alone. Into her dressing room, began her anxiously awaited make-up, which would transform a simple girl into Lola, the queen of society. Dazzling gas lamps, open boxes (reminiscent of travel and ostentation), scattered cosmetics... rouge, pearl powder, chalk powder, cork, ink, eyelid pencil, wig, scissors, mirror, costume. ...In short, there are all kinds of unnamed make-up outfits, all of which have their own unique flavor. Since she came to Chicago, many things in the city have attracted her deeply, but those things are very important to her. It was always out of reach for her. This new atmosphere was much friendlier. It was not at all like those rich mansions that daunted her, she was not allowed to go near, she was only allowed to marvel from a distance. The atmosphere here is like a An old friend, took her hand affectionately, and said to her: "Come in, dear." It opened the door to her as if it was one of its own. The theater reviews, the gorgeous costumes on the stage, the theater atmosphere brought by the carriages, flowers and elegant costumes...all this has always awed and intrigued her. Now this is no longer a fantasy. The door is open to let She looked at all this. Like a person who accidentally discovered a secret passage, she stumbled here. When she opened her eyes, she came to a treasure house full of diamonds and rare treasures!

While she was restlessly putting on her costume in her little dressing room, she could hear voices outside, see Mr. Quincel bustling about, and Mrs. Morgan and Mrs. Hoagland nervously preparing for work. The troupe of twenty actors was walking up and down, wondering how the play would turn out, and it made her wonder how pleasant it would be if this went on forever. If she could It would be ideal to find a job as an actress sometime later if she succeeded in acting. This idea moved her very much, like the melody of an old folk song echoing in her ears. It was another scene in the small lounge outside. Even if Hurstwood did not exert influence, the small theater might still be full, because the people in the branch are still more concerned about the affairs of the branch. But Hurstwood's words Word spread, and the show became a social event in tuxedo. Four boxes were taken. Dr. Norman McNee Hale and Mrs. C. A. Walger, a woolen merchant of fortune, also took one. A well-known coal merchant was persuaded to take a third. Hurstwood and his friends took a fourth. Drouet Among this group of people. Those who flock to the theater to see the play are generally not famous people, not even local dignitaries, but they are the leading figures of a certain class... That rather bourgeois class plus the dignitaries of the gang. The gentlemen of these fraternities know each other's place and respect each other's abilities, because they have built a small business in their own right. They all had a fine house, a carriage or a hansom, and perhaps well-dressed and distinguished themselves in the business world. Of course Hurstwood was an important figure in the group. A man in his present position is mentally superior. He is shrewd, dignified, eminently powerful, naturally tactful in dealing with people, and easy to win people's friendship. In this circle, he is better than most people. To be famous is to be regarded as a person of great power and wealth.

Tonight he was in his own circle, and he was at home in water. He had come to the theater with some friends in a carriage directly from the Rector's. In the drawing-room he met Drouet, who had bought cigars. All five chatted cheerfully. When they got up, they chatted about the upcoming performance team and the general situation of the branch affairs. "Who's here?" Hurstwood entered the performance hall from the foyer. The lights in the hall were all lit, and a group of gentlemen were talking and laughing loudly in the open space behind the seats. "How are you, Mr. Hurstwood?" greeted him from the first person he recognized.

"Nice to meet you," said Hurstwood, shaking his hand gently. "That looks like the same thing, doesn't it?" "Yes, it's very good," said Mr. Manager. "The people in the Coster branch seem to be united," remarked his friend. "It should be," said the worldly manager, "it's a pleasure to see them like that." "Hey, George," said the other fat man, who was so fat that the collar of his coat was stretched open, showing a large stretch of his starched shirtfront, "how are you?" "Very well," said the manager.

"How did you come here? Aren't you from the Coster branch?" "I came with good intentions," replied the manager, "to see my friends here, you know." "Is your wife here too?" "She can't come today, she is not well." "It's a pity...I hope it's not something serious." "No, just a little discomfort." "I remember Mrs. Hurstwood traveling with you to St. Jo..." At this point the newcomer began to recall trifles, which were interrupted by a group of friends . "Hello, George, how are you?" asked the other, pleasantly. He was a West End politician and branch member. "Wow, I'm so glad to see you again. How are you doing?"

"Excellent. I see you've been nominated for City Council." "Yes, we beat them without much trouble." "What do you think Mr. Hannasay will be doing now?" "Go back to his brick business. You know he has a brick factory." "I don't know that," said the manager. "I suppose he must be very upset about his defeat." "Perhaps," said the other, with a shrewd wink. Those friends whom he had invited and who had a deeper friendship with him also arrived one after another in carriages, and they swaggered in, ostentatiously dressed in elegant and exquisite clothes, with an obvious air of self-satisfied dignitary. "We're all here," said Hurstwood, turning away from those who were talking, and addressing the newcomer. "Yes," said the newcomer, a gentleman of about forty-five. "Well," he whispered, tugging Hurstwood jovially by the shoulder, "if the show doesn't go well, I'll knock you on the head." "In order to see old friends, you should also pay for it. This show, let it be good or not!" The other asked him: "Is it interesting?" The manager replied: "I don't know. I don't think it will be interesting." Then he waved his hand generously and said, "I want to support the branch. " "A lot of people came, didn't they?" "Yes, go and find Mr. Shanahan, he was asking about you just now." Thus the little theater resounded with the conversations of these happy characters, with the snarls of fine costumes, and with general greetings of goodwill. Hurstwood for the most part had summoned them. In the half an hour before the opening, you can see him with a group of big shots at any time...five or six people form a circle, each of them is fat, with a large white shirt front exposed from the collar of his suit. and the gentlemen who came with their wives greeted him and shook hands with him. The seats clattered, the usher bowed to the guests, And he looked on with mild solicitude. He was evidently the best of the group, and in him reflected the ambitions of those who greeted him. He was recognized by them, flattered by them, and even He was looked upon as something of a great man, and that showed the man's rank. Though he did not belong to the highest ranks of society, he was a great man in his own circle.