Chapter 32 Chapter 32: The Banquet of Belteshazzar: A Prophecy to Be Fulfilled

The feelings which this walk had aroused in Carrie's mind made her in a state of mind receptive to the sad tone of the play as she went on to the play. Enough sentimentality was added to contrast and temper the humor. As we all know, the stage had a great fascination for Carrie. She never forgot her successful performance in Chicago. Among those On long afternoons, when her only amusement was sitting in a rocking chair and reading the latest novel, the performance haunted her and filled her mind. Whenever she was at a play, her own talent come to mind vividly. Several scenes made her yearn to play a character in which she could express the emotions she herself felt in that character's place. She almost always brought those vivid imaginations to life. Go back and ponder it alone the next day. She lives in the imagination as in the reality of everyday life.

Before the theater she was disturbed by real life, which is not often the case. But today, after seeing the finery, the joy, and the beauties, her heart sang softly. A song of longing. Ah, who are these hundreds of women who pass her by? These rich and elegant garments, colorful buttons and gold and silver trinkets, where did they come from? Come? Where do these beauties live? What elegance do they live in, with their carved furniture, richly decorated walls, and colorful tapestries? They have everything that money can buy Where are the luxurious apartments with everything you need? What kind of stables feed these beautiful and clever horses and park these luxurious carriages? Where are the richly dressed servants hanging out? Ah, those high-rise buildings. The lights. The perfume. A boudoir with gold and cash and a dining table full of delicacies! There must be boudoirs like this everywhere in New York, otherwise there would be no such beautiful, arrogant, supercilious beauties. There are conservatories to nurture them. It pains her that she is now Knowing that she's not one of them...God, she had a dream that didn't come true. She's amazed at the lonely life she's been living for two years...She's going to have a dream that didn't come true The original expectations were indifferent.

It is one of those plays based on the gossip of the leisure classes in their drawing-rooms, in which beautiful ladies, ladies and gentlemen, in their finery, are tormented by love and jealousy in the midst of resplendent surroundings. .For those who yearn for such material circumstances all day long but are never satisfied, such light-hearted dramas have always had a charm. Their charm lies in showing what it is to suffer in ideal circumstances. Who would not want to sit in a gilded Sadness in a chair? Who wouldn’t want to suffer among scented tapestries, upholstered furniture, and liveried servants? Sadness in such surroundings becomes a tempting thing. Li longed to be in it. She wished she could suffer in such a world, any kind of suffering, or if not, at least simulate it in the enchanting surroundings of the stage. What she saw and heard just now has greatly affected her mood, therefore, the play now looks particularly wonderful. She will soon be immersed in the realm depicted in the play, and she really hopes that she will never return to reality At the transition, she surveyed the glamorous audience in the front seats and in the boxes, and gained a new sense of the potential opportunities in New York. She was sure she did not see New York. All in all, this city is simply a vortex of joy and happiness.

After coming out of the theater, it was Broadway that taught her a more profound lesson. The spectacle she had come to see was now more spectacular, reaching a climax. She had never seen such extravagance. This strengthened her opinion of her situation. She hadn't lived, she couldn't have enjoyed life at all, unless it happened in her own life. Every elegant shop she passed, she could Seeing women spend money like water, flowers, sweets and jewelry seems to be the main interest of the ladies. And she, she doesn't even have enough pocket money to go out like this a few times a month.

That night, the pretty little apartment looked very dull. The rest of the world didn't live in such a place. She watched the servants cook dinner. Her mind flashed a scene from the play. She especially remembered a beautiful actress... who played the lover who was wooed and won. The beauty of this woman conquered Carrie's heart. Her costumes were the embodiment of perfect art, her The anguish was so real. Carrie could feel the pain she showed. She acted well, and Carrie was sure she could do as well, and in some places she could do better. So , she read the lines silently. Ah, if only she could play such a role, then what a vast space her life would have! Besides, she could also act charmingly.

Carrie was moping, and Hurstwood came back. She sat in her rocking-chair, rocking and thinking. She did not want anyone to interrupt her seductive fancies, so she said little or nothing. "What's the matter with you, Carrie?" said Hurstwood after a while, noticing her silent, almost melancholy manner. "Nothing," said Carrie. "I don't feel well to-night." "Isn't it sick?" He approached very close and asked. "Oh, no," she said, almost on the edge of anger, "I just don't feel very well." "That's too bad," he said, going away. He had just bent over a little, and now he was pulling his waistcoat back into place, "I thought we could go to a play tonight."

"I don't want to go," said Carrie, irritated at having her beautiful fantasies thus interrupted and dispelled. "I went to the theater this afternoon." "Oh, you've been to the play?" said Hurstwood. "What was it?" "A Gold Mine." "How's the show?" "Very well," said Carrie. "Don't you want to go to the theater again tonight?" "I don't want to go," she said. However, when she came out of her melancholy mood and was called to the table, she changed her mind. A little food in the stomach would do wonders. She went to the theater again, and thus recovered temporarily. Her serenity. Yet the wakeful blow has been struck. Now she often recovers from these grievances, which often recur. Time plus repetition... ah, This is amazing! A drop of water penetrates a stone, and the stone will eventually give up completely!

Not long after this matinee, about a month later, Mrs. Vance invited Carrie to an evening with the couple. She heard from Carrie that Hurstwood was not coming back to supper. "Why don't you come with us? Don't eat dinner alone. We're going to eat at Cherie's, and then to the Lyceum. Come with us." "Well, I'll go," replied Carrie. She began to dress at three o'clock, and was going to leave at half past five for the famous restaurant, which was competing with the Delmonico for social status. From Carrie's attire this time, it could be seen that she was as good at grooming as she was. Mrs. Vance's association with Mrs. Vance, who constantly reminded her of new trends in every aspect of women's dress.

"Are you going to buy such-and-such a hat?" or "Have you seen the new glove with the oval beaded buckle?" These are just a few examples, and there are many such conversations. "Next time you buy shoes, my dear," said Mrs. Vance, "get buckles, with thick soles. Patent buckles and patent leather toes. They're very fashionable this autumn." "All right," said Carrie. "Hey, honey, have you seen the new shirts from Altman's? There are some really cute styles out there. I saw one there, you'd look great in it. When I saw it I said said that."

Carrie listened to these words with interest, for they had more friendship than the usual conversation between pretty women. Mrs. Vance was very fond of Carrie's consistent kindness, and of bringing the latest It was a great pleasure for her to tell Carrie. "Why don't you go and get a nice serge dress to wear? Lord...Taylor's sells it," she said one day. You must look very pretty in navy blue." Carrie listened attentively. There was never such a conversation between her and Hurstwood. However, she began to make demands of one kind or another, which Hurstwood granted without comment. He noticed Carrie's new hobby, and hearing so much about Mrs. Vance and her happy way of life, at last guessed where the change came from. He did not wish to raise even the slightest objection so soon, but he Sensing that Carrie's needs were expanding. It didn't make him happy, but he loved her in his own way, so he let it develop. However, in the specific negotiation, something made Carrie feel that she Her requests did not please him. He was not enthusiastic about her purchases. This made her feel that she was being neglected, and a small rift opened between them.

However, Mrs. Vance's suggestions had their effect, and one of the signs was that this time, Carrie was somewhat satisfied with her appearance. She put on her best clothes. But she was relieved that even though she Had to put on one of her best clothes, but it fitted her well and fitted her well. She looked a well-groomed woman of twenty-one, and Mrs. Vance complimented her, which made her plump The cheeks were more rosy, and the large eyes were brighter. It seemed that it was going to rain, and Mr. Vance, obeying his wife's orders, called a cab. "Isn't your husband coming with you?" Mr. Vance reminded Carrie when he saw her in his little drawing-room. "No, he said he wouldn't come back for supper." "Better leave him a note and tell him where we've been. He might come." "Very well," said Carrie, who had not thought of it before coming here. "Tell him we were at the Shelly's before eight o'clock. I think he knows the place." Carrie crossed the aisle, rustling her skirts, scribbling a note with her gloves on. When she returned, there was a new visitor in the Vance family. "Mrs. Wheeler, let me introduce you to my cousin, Mr. Ames," said Mrs. Vance. "He's coming with us, isn't he, Bob?" "Nice to meet you," said Ames, bowing politely to Carrie. What Carrie saw at first glance was a very tall and strong man. She also noticed that he was clean-shaven, well-made, and young, but that was all. "Mr. Ames has just arrived in New York, and will be staying in New York for a few days," interposed Vance, "and we want to show him the sights." "Oh, yes?" said Carrie, glancing again at her visitor. "Yes, I've just come here from Indianapolis, and I'm going to be here a week or so," said young Ames, sitting on the edge of a chair, waiting for Mrs. Vance to be dressed. "I suppose you've found New York to be a good sight, haven't you?" said Carrie, wanting something to say to avoid a possible dead scene. "It's such a big city, I'm afraid I can't finish it in a week," Ames replied cheerfully. He was a very good-natured fellow, and without the least bit of affectation. It seemed to Carrie that he was just trying to shed all traces of youthful shyness. He did not appear to be a man of conversation, but his well-dressed and daring qualities were His saving grace. Carrie did not think it would be difficult to talk to him. "Well, I see we are all ready now. The carriage is waiting outside." "Come on, mates," said Mrs. Vance, coming in, laughing, "Bob, you've got to take care of Mrs. Wheeler." "I'll do my best," said Bob, with a smile, and moved closer to Carrie. "You don't need much care, do you?" he said in a flattering and beseeching tone, which seemed very active. "I hope not too much," said Carrie. They came downstairs and into the open carriage, Mrs. Vance making suggestions all the way. "All right," said Vance, slamming the door, and the car drove off. "What play shall we go to?" asked Ames. "Lord Chamley in Saussanne," said Vance. "Oh, he's very well done!" said Mrs. Vance, "he's just plain funny." "I've noticed that the papers are highly rated," Ames said. "I'm absolutely sure," put in Vance, "that we'll all have a good time." Sitting next to Carrie, Ames felt that it was his duty to take care of her. He was interested in how young and beautiful she was as a lady, but out of all respect. He He had nothing of the flamboyance of a chasing man. He respected marriage and thought only of the pretty girls of marriageable age in Indianapolis. "Are you a native New Yorker?" Ames asked Carrie. "Oh no, I've only been here two years." "Oh, yes, but you've got plenty of time to see New York." "I don't seem to have got much of it," replied Carrie. "It's almost as foreign to me now as it was when I first came here." "You're from the West, aren't you?" "Yes. I'm from Wisconsin," she replied. "Yeah, it looks like most of the people in this city haven't been here very long. I hear there's a lot of Hoosiers that I'm with." "What's your line of business?" asked Carrie. "I work for an electrical company," said the young man. Carrie went on in this casual conversation, and the Vances occasionally interjected. On several occasions they all fell into conversation, and somewhat humorously, and so they arrived at the hotel. Carrie noticed the festive bustle and merrymaking along the way. Fifty-ninth Street streetcars were crowded with carriages and pedestrians everywhere. At the intersection of Fifty-ninth Street and Fifth Avenue, next to Platinum The new hotels in Zaza Square were brightly lit, suggesting the luxury of life in hotels. On Fifth Avenue, the comfort zone of the rich, it was crowded with carriages and gentlemen in evening coats. They arrived at the At the entrance of the Lily Hotel, a handsome porter opened the car door for them and helped them out of the car. Young Em held Carrie's arm and helped her up the steps. They entered the hall full of guests, took off their After putting on his coat, he entered a luxurious dining room. In all her life Carrie had never seen anything like it. She had been in New York so long, but Hurstwood's financial situation in her new situation did not permit him to take her there. There is an almost indescribable atmosphere about this place, which makes newcomers believe that this is the place to come. This kind of place, because of the high cost, only those who have money or the fun-loving class will become the place here. Patron. Carrie has often read about it in the Morning World and the Evening World. She has seen announcements of balls, parties, big balls and dinners at the Sherry's. Miss So-and-so is scheduled for Wednesday In the evening, a party will be held at the Xie Li Hotel. Young Mr. So-and-so is scheduled to hold a luncheon at the Xie Li Hotel on the 16th to entertain his friends. She cannot help but glance at such regular notices about social activities in a few words, So she was well aware of the splendor and extravagance of this sanctuary of gourmets. And now she herself had really come here at last. She really walked up the grand steps guarded by the strong porter. She really Saw the hall guarded by another strong man, and enjoyed the service of liveried servants who looked after canes and overcoats and such. This was the very ornate dining room, which was beautifully decorated. The walls were vivid. Fai. A place for rich people to dine in. Oh, how lucky Mrs. Vance is, young. Beautiful. And rich. . Vance led the way across rows of gleaming tables, with anywhere from two to six people dining at each table. Everything here had an air of grandeur and stateliness, especially for a first-timer. The incandescent lights and their presence The reflections on the polished glass and the glittering gold walls form a world of light. The differences between them can only be distinguished and recognized after a period of quiet observation. Gentlemen’s white shirt skirts. Ladies’ bright colors Attire. Diamonds. Jewelry. Delicate feathers... it's all very eye-catching. Carrie entered with the same pomp as Mrs. Vance, and took the seat assigned to her by the head waiter. She was keenly aware of every little movement...the nods and bows of the waiters and head waiters for whom the Americans paid The little gestures the head waiter made when he pulled out each chair, the way he waved when he invited them to sit down, was worth a few dollars in itself. As soon as he sat down, he began to display the extravagant and unhealthy way of eating that is characteristic of rich Americans. This way of eating surprised and surprised the truly educated and dignified people all over the world. Rows of dishes are enough to feed an army, and the prices marked next to them make reasonable expenses ridiculous and impossible... A soup costs 5 cents or 1 yuan, and there are a dozen varieties to choose from; there are four Ten flavors of oysters cost six cents for six; main courses, fish and meat dishes cost a person a night in an ordinary hotel. On this beautifully printed menu, $15 and $2 Blocks seem to be the most common price. Carrie noticed this, and, looking at the menu, the price of broilers reminded her of another menu and the very disparate occasion when she first sat down with Drouet in a nice Chicago restaurant. Just a fleeting memory...like a sad note in an old song...and then gone. But for a split second seeing another Carrie... Poverty. Hunger. Desperation, and the whole of Chicago is a cruel, exclusive world, because she can't find a job, she can only wander outside. The walls are decorated with colorful patterns, light green and blue squares, surrounded by gorgeous gold frames, and the four corners are some exquisite shapes, with fruits, flowers and fat little cupids flying freely like angels. On the ceiling The algae well is even more shining with gold. If you look towards the center along the algae well, there is a string of bright lights hanging there, incandescent lamps intertwined with shining prisms and stucco tendrils inlaid with gold. The floor is red, waxed, and polished. There are mirrors everywhere... tall. shiny beveled mirrors... recurring figures, faces and lampstands countless times. The table itself was nothing special, but the words "Sherry" on the napkins, the name "Tiffany" on the silverware, the last name "Harvey Blue" on the china, when the little sconces with red shades lit them all, When the colorful lights on the walls are reflected on the clothes and faces of the guests, these tables look very eye-catching. It adds to the dignified and elegant atmosphere here. He serves every customer attentively and exclusively, standing half-bent beside him, listening attentively, with his hands on his hips, and chanting: "Soup...turtle Soup, yes. One, yes. Oysters, yes... a half dozen, yes. Asparagus. Olives... yes." Every guest can enjoy the same service, but this time Vance took the initiative to order food for everyone, soliciting everyone's opinions and suggestions. Carrie looked at the people here with wide eyes. The luxury life in New York is like this. Rich That's how people spend their time. All she could think of in her poor little head was that every scene here represented the whole of high society. Every lady must have been in the crowd on Broadway in the afternoon, In the theater at the matinee, in the carriage and in the dining room at night. There must be scenery everywhere, there are carriages waiting, and servants waiting, but she has no part in all these. In the past two long days In the middle of the year, she hadn't even been to such a place at all. Vance was at home in a place like this, as Hurstwood had been. He generously ordered soup, oysters, roasts and side dishes, and a few bottles of wine, in wicker baskets by the table. Ames was raptly watching the crowd in the restaurant, so that Carrie saw him in profile, which was interesting. He had a high forehead, a big, strong nose, and a lovely chin. His mouth was long and Yes, broad and shapely, with dark brown hair parted a little to one side. He seemed a little boyish to Carrie, though he was quite a man. "You know," he said, turning to Carrie, after some thought, "sometimes I think it's a disgraceful thing for people to spend so much money like that." Carrie watched him for a moment, a little surprised at his seriousness. He seemed to be thinking of something she had never considered. "Really?" she replied with interest. "Really," said he, "they're spending far more than the things are worth. They're showing off." "I don't see why, if people have money, they shouldn't spend it," said Mrs. Vance. "It won't do any harm," said Vance, who was still studying the menu, though he had already ordered. Ames looked away again, and Carrie looked again at his brow. It seemed to her that he seemed to be thinking of something strange, and his eyes were gentle as he surveyed the crowd. "Look at that woman's dress over there," he said, turning to Carrie again, and nodding in one direction. "Which way?" said Carrie, following his gaze. "On the corner over there . . . farther away, do you see that brooch?" "It's big, isn't it?" said Carrie. "It's the biggest string of gems I've ever seen," Ames said. "It's big, isn't it?" said Carrie. She felt as if she wanted to cling to the young man, and at the same time, perhaps before this, she had a vague sense that he was more educated than she was, Smarter than she was, too. He seemed to be, and the saving grace of Carrie was that she could understand that some people were wiser than others. She had seen many such people in her life, and they reminded her of her The scholar she had vaguely imagined. Now the strong young man beside her, with a handsome appearance and a natural demeanor, seemed to know a lot of things she didn't understand but agreed with. She thought it was very good for a man to be like this. The conversation turned to a bestseller of the time, Albert Ross's Making a Lady. Mrs. Vance had read it. Vance had seen it discussed in some of the papers. "A man can make a name for himself by writing a book," said Vance. "I've noticed a lot of talk about this Ross guy." He looked at Carrie as he said this. "I've never heard of him," said Carrie honestly. "Oh, I've heard," said Mrs. Vance, "that he's written quite a few things. This latest one is very good." "There's nothing great about him," Ames said. Carrie turned her eyes to look at him like a sage. "He's writing about as bad a thing as Dora Thorne," he concluded. Carrie felt that it was a reproach to her. She had read Dora Thorne, or had read many serials before. She thought it was all right, but she guessed that others would think it was The book is very good. And now, this bright-eyed, bright-headed young man who seemed to her like a student was laughing at it. It seemed to him a bad book, not worth reading. She hung her head, and for the first time distressed at her lack of understanding. But there was nothing ironic or haughty in Ames's tone of voice. There was very little of that in him. Carrie thought it was just a good opinion from a higher point of view, a correct one, and she wanted to know From his point of view, what else was right. He seemed to notice that she was listening to him, and appreciating his point of view, and from then on he spoke mostly to her. The waiter bowed back, touched the plate to see if it was hot enough, brought spoons and forks, and did these small things attentively, in order to impress the customer with the luxurious environment here. During this time, Ames also turned slightly He leaned down and told her about Indianapolis, and he seemed very knowledgeable. He did have a head full of wisdom, and his wisdom was mainly reflected in the knowledge of electricity. However, he was very knowledgeable about other knowledge and people. His reflexes were quick and enthusiastic. The red light shone on his head, his hair became golden yellow, and his eyes sparkled. When he leaned over her, she noticed all this and felt very young. This man was far above her. He looked wiser than Hurstwood, and more steady and intelligent than Drouet. He looked innocent and pure, and she thought him very lovely. She also noticed that he had some interest in her. But it was far from her. She was not in his circle, and nothing about his life concerned her, but now, when he talked about them, she was interested. "I don't want to be rich," he told her over dinner, and the food aroused his sympathy, "and I don't want to have too much money to spend like this." "Oh, don't you want to?" said Carrie, who had first heard this new point of view, and which had made a vivid impression on her. "No," said he, "what good would that be? One does not need such things in order to be happy." Carrie had some doubts about it, but the words that came out of his mouth carried weight to her. "He might be happy alone," she thought. "He's so strong." The Vances interrupted incessantly, and Ames could only talk of such memorable occasions here and there. But that was enough. For there was no need for words, and the very atmosphere of the young man had impresses Carrie. There was something about him, or wherever he went, that fascinated her. He reminded her of scenes she had seen on the stage, with something she didn't understand, always appearing. Sorrows and sacrifices of all sorts. A calm, indifferent air which was peculiar to him, softened some of the pain which this life produced by its contrast with hers. He took her arm as they came out of the hotel, and helped her into the carriage, and they were on their way again, to the theatre. While watching the play, Carrie found that she was listening to him very attentively. The details in the play he mentioned were all her favorite and moved her the most. "Don't you think it would be nice to be an actress?" she asked once. "Yes, I think it's pretty good," said he, "to be a good actor. I think theater is great." Just such a small approval that made Carrie's heart pound. Ah, if only she'd be an actress...a good one! That's a wise man...he understands . . . and he approves. If she was a good actress, a man like him would approve of her. She thinks it is a good man for him to say that, though it has nothing to do with her. She does not Know why I feel this way. At the end of the play, she suddenly understood that he was not going to go back with them. "Oh, won't you go back?" asked Carrie, looking a little out of place. "Well, no," said he, "I live near here on Thirty-third Street." Carrie said no more, but she was shaken somehow by the incident. She had been mourning the passing of the pleasant evening, but she had thought there was still half an hour to go. Oh, these half hours, these Every minute, every second, how much pain and sorrow is filled in it! She said good-bye in a cool way. What's the big deal? But the carriage seemed deserted. She was still thinking about it when she got back to her apartment. She didn't know if she would ever see this man again. But what did it matter... what did it matter? Hurstwood had come back, and was in bed by this time. His clothes were lying in disarray by the side. Carrie went to the door, saw him, and drew back. She did not want to go in yet. She had to think about it. The scene in the room made her uncomfortable. She went back to the dining-room and rocked in the rocking-chair. She clasped her little hands tightly in thought. Through the fog of longing and conflicted desires she began to see clearly. Oh, what hopes and regrets, How much sorrow and pain! She shook and began to see clearly.