《嘉莉妹妹》时尚在诱惑：情感在自卫
Carrie was an apt student of fortune's ways--of fortune's superficialities. Seeing a thing, she would immediately set to inquiring how she would look, properly related to it. Be it known that this is not fine feeling, it is not wisdom. The greatest minds are not so afflicted; and on the contrary, the lowest order of mind is not so disturbed. Fine clothes to her were a vast persuasion; they spoke tenderly and Jesuitically for themselves. When she came within earshot of their pleading, desire in her bent a willing ear. The voice of the so-called inanimate！ Who shall translate for us the language of the stones?
"My dear," said the lace collar she secured from Partridge's, "I fit you beautifully; don't give me up."
"Ah, such little feet," said the leather of the soft new shoes; "how effectively I cover them. What a pity they should ever want my aid."
Once these things were in her hand, on her person, she might dream of giving them up; the method by which they came might intrude itself so forcibly that she would ache to be rid of the thought of it, but she would not give them up. "Put on the old clothes--that torn pair of shoes," was called to her by her conscience in vain. She could possibly have conquered the fear of hunger and gone back; the thought of hard work and a narrow round of suffering would, under the last pressure of conscience, have yielded, but spoil her appearance?--be old-clothed and poor-appearing?--never！
Drouet heightened her opinion on this and allied subjects in such a manner as to weaken her power of resisting their influence. It is so easy to do this when the thing opined is in the line of what we desire. In his hearty way, he insisted upon her good looks. He looked at her admiringly, and she took it at its full value. Under the circumstances, she did not need to carry herself as pretty women do. She picked that knowledge up fast enough for herself. Drouet had a habit, characteristic of his kind, of looking after stylishly dressed or pretty women on the street and remarking upon them. He had just enough of the feminine love of dress to be a good judge--not of intellect, but of clothes. He saw how they set their little feet, how they carried their chins, with what grace and sinuosity they swung their bodies. A dainty, self-conscious swaying of the hips by a woman was to him as alluring as the glint of rare wine to a toper. He would turn and follow the disappearing vision with his eyes. He would thrill as a child with the unhindered passion that was in him. He loved the thing that women love in themselves, grace. At this, their own shrine, he knelt with them, an ardent devotee.
"Did you see that woman who went by just now?" he said to Carrie on the first day they took a walk together. "Fine stepper, wasn't she?"
Carrie looked, and observed the grace commended.
"Yes, she is," she returned, cheerfully, a little suggestion of possible defect in herself awakening in her mind. If that was so fine, she must look at it more closely. Instinctively, she felt a desire to imitate it. Surely she could do that too.
When one of her mind sees many things emphasized and re-emphasized and admired, she gathers the logic of it and applies accordingly. Drouet was not shrewd enough to see that this was not tactful. He could not see that it would be better to make her feel that she was competing with herself, not others better than herself. He would not have done it with an older, wiser woman, but in Carrie he saw only the novice. Less clever than she, he was naturally unable to comprehend her sensibility. He went on educating and wounding her, a thing rather foolish in one whose admiration for his pupil and victim was apt to grow.
Carrie took the instructions affably. She saw what Drouet liked; in a vague way she saw where he was weak. It lessens a woman's opinion of a man when she learns that his admiration is so pointedly and generously distributed. She sees but one object of supreme compliment in this world, and that is herself. If a man is to succeed with many women, he must be all in all to each.
In her own apartments Carrie saw things which were lessons in the same school.
In the same house with her lived an official of one of the theatres, Mr. Frank A. Hale, manager of the Standard, and his wife, a pleasing-looking brunette of thirty-five. They were people of a sort very common in America today, who live respectably from hand to mouth. Hale received a salary of forty-five dollars a week. His wife, quite attractive, affected the feeling of youth, and objected to that sort of home life which means the care of a house and the raising of a family. Like Drouet and Carrie, they also occupied three rooms on the floor above.
Not long after she arrived Mrs. Hale established social relations with her, and together they went about. For a long time this was her only companionship, and the gossip of the manager's wife formed the medium through which she saw the world. Such trivialities, such praises of wealth, such conventional expression of morals as sifted through this passive creature's mind, fell upon Carrie and for the while confused her.
On the other hand, her own feelings were a corrective influence. The constant drag to something better was not to be denied. By those things which address the heart was she steadily recalled. In the apartments across the hall were a young girl and her mother. They were from Evansville, Indiana, the wife and daughter of a railroad treasurer. The daughter was here to study music, the mother to keep her company.
Carrie did not make their acquaintance, but she saw the daughter coming in and going out. A few times she had seen her at the piano in the parlour, and not infrequently had heard her play. This young woman was particularly dressy for her station, and wore a jewelled ring or two which flashed upon her white fingers as she played.
Now Carrie was affected by music. Her nervous composition responded to certain strains, much as certain strings of a harp vibrate when a corresponding key of a piano is struck. She was delicately moulded in sentiment, and answered with vague ruminations to certain wistful chords. They awoke longings for those things which she did not have. They caused her to cling closer to things she possessed. One short song the young lady played in a most soulful and tender mood. Carrie heard it through the open door from the parlour below. It was at that hour between afternoon and night when, for the idle, the wanderer, things are apt to take on a wistful aspect. The mind wanders forth on far journeys and returns with sheaves of withered and departed joys. Carrie sat at her window looking out. Drouet had been away since ten in the morning. She had amused herself with a walk, a book by Bertha M. Clay which Drouet had left there, though she did not wholly enjoy the latter, and by changing her dress for the evening. Now she sat looking out across the park as wistful and depressed as the nature which craves variety and life can be under such circumstances. As she contemplated her new state, the strain from the parlour below stole upward. With it her thoughts became coloured and enmeshed. She reverted to the things which were best and saddest within the small limit of her experience. She became for the moment a repentant.
While she was in this mood Drouet came in, bringing with him an entirely different atmosphere. It was dusk and Carrie had neglected to light the lamp. The fire in the grate, too, had burned low.
"Where are you, Cad?" he said, using a pet name he had given her.
"Here," she answered.
There was something delicate and lonely in her voice, but he could not hear it. He had not the poetry in him that would seek a woman out under such circumstances and console her for the tragedy of life. Instead, he struck a match and lighted the gas.
"Hello," he exclaimed, "you've been crying."
Her eyes were still wet with a few vague tears.
"Pshaw," he said, "you don't want to do that."
He took her hand, feeling in his good-natured egotism that it was probably lack of his presence which had made her lonely.
"Come on, now," he went on; "it's all right. Let's waltz a little to that music."
He could not have introduced a more incongruous proposition. It made clear to Carrie that he could not sympathise with her. She could not have framed thoughts which would have expressed his defect or made clear the difference between them, but she felt it. It was his first great mistake.
What Drouet said about the girl's grace, as she tripped out evenings accompanied by her mother, caused Carrie to perceive the nature and value of those little modish ways which women adopt when they would presume to be something. She looked in the mirror and pursed up her lips, accompanying it with a little toss of the head, as she had seen the railroad treasurer's daughter do. She caught up her skirts with an easy swing, for had not Drouet remarked that in her and several others, and Carrie was naturally imitative. She began to get the hang of those little things which the pretty woman who has vanity invariably adopts. In short, her knowledge of grace doubled, and with it her appearance changed. She became a girl of considerable taste.
Drouet noticed this. He saw the new bow in her hair and the new way of arranging her locks which she affected one morning.
"You look fine that way, Cad," he said.
"Do I?" she replied, sweetly. It made her try for other effects that selfsame day.
She used her feet less heavily, a thing that was brought about by her attempting to imitate the treasurer's daughter's graceful carriage. How much influence the presence of that young woman in the same house had upon her it would be difficult to say. But, because of all these things, when Hurstwood called he had found a young woman who was much more than the Carrie to whom Drouet had first spoken. The primary defects of dress and manner had passed. She was pretty, graceful, rich in the timidity born of uncertainty, and with a something childlike in her large eyes which captured the fancy of this starched and conventional poser among men. It was the ancient attraction of the fresh for the stale. If there was a touch of appreciation left in him for the bloom and unsophistication which is the charm of youth, it rekindled now. He looked into her pretty face and felt the subtle waves of young life radiating therefrom. In that large clear eye he could see nothing that his blase nature could understand as guile. The little vanity, if he could have perceived it there, would have touched him as a pleasant thing.
"I wonder," he said, as he rode away in his cab, "how Drouet came to win her."
He gave her credit for feelings superior to Drouet at the first glance.
The cab plopped along between the far-receding lines of gas lamps on either hand. He folded his gloved hands and saw only the lighted chamber and Carrie's face. He was pondering over the delight of youthful beauty.
"I'll have a bouquet for her," he thought. "Drouet won't mind." He never for a moment concealed the fact of her attraction for himself. He troubled himself not at all about Drouet's priority. He was merely floating those gossamer threads of thought which, like the spider's, he hoped would lay hold somewhere. He did not know, he could not guess, what the result would be.
A few weeks later Drouet, in his peregrinations, encountered one of his well-dressed lady acquaintances in Chicago on his return from a short trip to Omaha. He had intended to hurry out to Ogden Place and surprise Carrie, but now he fell into an interesting conversation and soon modified his original intention.
"Let's go to dinner," he said, little recking any chance meeting which might trouble his way.
"Certainly," said his companion.
They visited one of the better restaurants for a social chat. It was five in the afternoon when they met; it was seven-thirty before the last bone was picked.
Drouet was just finishing a little incident he was relating, and his face was expanding into a smile, when Hurstwood's eye caught his own. The latter had come in with several friends, and, seeing Drouet and some woman, not Carrie, drew his own conclusion.
"Ah, the rascal," he thought, and then, with a touch of righteous sympathy, "that's pretty hard on the little girl."
Drouet jumped from one easy thought to another as he caught Hurstwood's eye. He felt but very little misgiving, until he saw that Hurstwood was cautiously pretending not to see. Then some of the latter's impression forced itself upon him. He thought of Carrie and their last meeting. By George, he would have to explain this to Hurstwood. Such a chance half-hour with an old friend must not have anything more attached to it than it really warranted.
For the first time he was troubled. Here was a moral complication of which he could not possibly get the ends. Hurstwood would laugh at him for being a fickle boy. He would laugh with Hurstwood. Carrie would never hear, his present companion at table would never know, and yet he could not help feeling that he was getting the worst of it--there was some faint stigma attached, and he was not guilty. He broke up the dinner by becoming dull, and saw his companion on her car. Then he went home.
"He hasn't talked to me about any of these later flames," thought Hurstwood to himself. "He thinks I think he cares for the girl out there."
"He ought not to think I'm knocking around, since I have just introduced him out there," thought Drouet.
"I saw you," Hurstwood said, genially, the next time Drouet drifted in to his polished resort, from which he could not stay away. He raised his forefinger indicatively, as parents do to children.
"An old acquaintance of mine that I ran into just as I was coming up from the station," explained Drouet. "She used to be quite a beauty."
"Still attracts a little, eh?" returned the other, affecting to jest.
"Oh, no," said Drouet, "just couldn't escape her this time."
"How long are you here?" asked Hurstwood.
"Only a few days."
"You must bring the girl down and take dinner with me," he said. "I'm afraid you keep her cooped up out there. I'll get a box for Joe Jefferson."
"Not me," answered the drummer. "Sure I'll come."
This pleased Hurstwood immensely. He gave Drouet no credit for any feelings toward Carrie whatever. He envied him, and now, as he looked at the well-dressed jolly salesman, whom he so much liked, the gleam of the rival glowed in his eye. He began to "size up" Drouet from the standpoints of wit and fascination. He began to look to see where he was weak. There was no disputing that, whatever he might think of him as a good fellow, he felt a certain amount of contempt for him as a lover. He could hoodwink him all right. Why, if he would just let Carrie see one such little incident as that of Thursday, it would settle the matter. He ran on in thought, almost exulting, the while he laughed and chatted, and Drouet felt nothing. He had no power of analyzing the glance and the atmosphere of a man like Hurstwood. He stood and smiled and accepted the invitation while his friend examined him with the eye of a hawk.
The object of this peculiarly involved comedy was not thinking of either. She was busy adjusting her thoughts and feelings to newer conditions, and was not in danger of suffering disturbing pangs from either quarter. One evening Drouet found her dressing herself before the glass. "Cad," said he, catching her, "I believe you're getting vain."
"Nothing of the kind," she returned, smiling.
"Well, you're mighty pretty," he went on, slipping his arm around her. "Put on that navy-blue dress of yours and I'll take you to the show."
"Oh, I've promised Mrs. Hale to go with her to the Exposition to-night," she returned, apologetically.
"You did, eh?" he said, studying the situation abstractedly. "I wouldn't care to go to that myself."
"Well, I don't know," answered Carrie, puzzling, but not offering to break her promise in his favour.
Just then a knock came at their door and the maidservant handed a letter in.
"He says there's an answer expected," she explained.
"It's from Hurstwood," said Drouet, noting the superscription as he tore it open.
"You are to come down and see Joe Jefferson with me to-night," it ran in part. "It's my turn, as we agreed the other day. All other bets are off."
"Well, what do you say to this?" asked Drouet, innocently, while Carrie's mind bubbled with favourable replies.
"You had better decide, Charlie," she said, reservedly.
"I guess we had better go, if you can break that engagement upstairs," said Drouet.
"Oh, I can," returned Carrie without thinking.
Drouet selected writing paper while Carrie went to change her dress. She hardly explained to herself why this latest invitation appealed to her most.
"Shall I wear my hair as I did yesterday?" she asked, as she came out with several articles of apparel pending.
"Sure," he returned, pleasantly.
She was relieved to see that he felt nothing. She did not credit her willingness to go to any fascination Hurstwood held for her. It seemed that the combination of Hurstwood, Drouet, and herself was more agreeable than anything else that had been suggested. She arrayed herself most carefully and they started off, extending excuses upstairs.
"I say," said Hurstwood, as they came up the theatre lobby, "we are exceedingly charming this evening."
Carrie fluttered under his approving glance.
"Now, then," he said, leading the way up the foyer into the theatre.
If ever there was dressiness it was here. It was the personification of the old term spick and span.
"Did you ever see Jefferson?" he questioned, as he leaned toward Carrie in the box.
"I never did," she returned.
"He's delightful, delightful," he went on, giving the commonplace rendition of approval which such men know. He sent Drouet after a programme, and then discoursed to Carrie concerning Jefferson as he had heard of him. The former was pleased beyond expression, and was really hypnotised by the environment, the trappings of the box, the elegance of her companion. Several times their eyes accidentally met, and then there poured into hers such a flood of feeling as she had never before experienced. She could not for the moment explain it, for in the next glance or the next move of the hand there was seeming indifference, mingled only with the kindest attention.
Drouet shared in the conversation, but he was almost dull in comparison. Hurstwood entertained them both, and now it was driven into Carrie's mind that here was the superior man. She instinctively felt that he was stronger and higher, and yet withal so simple. By the end of the third act she was sure that Drouet was only a kindly soul, but otherwise defective. He sank every moment in her estimation by the strong comparison.
"I have had such a nice time," said Carrie, when it was all over and they were coming out.
"Yes, indeed," added Drouet, who was not in the least aware that a battle had been fought and his defences weakened. He was like the Emperor of China, who sat glorying in himself, unaware that his fairest provinces were being wrested from him.
"Well, you have saved me a dreary evening," returned Hurstwood. "Good-night."
He took Carrie's little hand, and a current of feeling swept from one to the other.
"I'm so tired," said Carrie, leaning back in the car when Drouet began to talk.
"Well, you rest a little while I smoke," he said, rising, and then he foolishly went to the forward platform of the car and left the game as it stood.
嘉莉善于学习有钱人的生活方式，模仿幸运儿们的种种浅薄表面的东西。看见一样东西，她就会问自己，如果适当地穿戴在她身上，会是什么样子。我们知道，这当然不是美好的情感，也不是智慧。智者不会为这种事情苦恼，愚人也不会为此不安。鲜衣美服对嘉莉有着巨大的诱惑力。每当她走近它们，它们似乎在狡猾地轻声自我夸耀，她心中的欲望使她乐意倾听这些声音。啊，这些无生命的东西却有多么动听的声音！
谁能替我们把这些宝石的声音翻译出来呢？
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杜洛埃助长了她在这个问题和其他相关问题上的看法，进一步削弱了她对物质引诱的抵抗能力。如果别人的见解正符合我们心中的愿望，这种情况是很容易发生的。他发自肺腑地一再赞扬她的美貌，他又那么仰慕地看着她，使她充分意识到美貌的重要。眼下她还不必像漂亮女人那样搔首弄姿。但是这方面的知识她学得很快。像他那一类人一样，杜洛埃有个习惯，喜欢在街上观察那些穿着时髦或者长相漂亮的女人，对她们评头品足。他具有女性那种对服饰的喜爱，因此在这个问题上很有眼光，尽管他在智力问题上一窍不通。他注意到她们如何迈出小巧的脚，如何微微扬起下巴，如何富有曲线美地用优美的姿势扭动身子。对他来说，一个女人风骚巧妙地摆动臀部的姿势就像美酒的色泽对酒徒那样具有吸引力。他会回过头去，用目光久久追踪着渐渐远去的身影。他会孩子般地以一股不加遏止的热情大大激动起来。他爱慕女人们自己珍视的东西--翩翩风度。他像一名忠实的信徒，和她们一起拜倒在这神龛面前。
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像她那么聪明的姑娘一旦看到某些东西被一再强调，受到推崇和赞赏，就会看出这种事的诀窍来，并付诸实践。杜洛埃不够精明，看不出这么做太没有策略了。他本应该让嘉莉和她自己比，而不是和比她自己强的女人比，这样事情会好得多。如果他是在和一个阅历丰富的女子打交道，他不会干出这种蠢事来的。但是他把嘉莉看作一个初出道的黄毛丫头，又没有她聪明，无法理解她的感情。于是他继续开导她，也继续伤害她。对一个自己日益爱慕的女子不断开导和伤害，实在是一件蠢事。
嘉莉心平气和地接受了他的教诲。她看出杜洛埃喜欢的是什么，模模糊糊地也看到了他的缺点。一个女人得知一个男人公然到处留情，她对他的看法就会下降。她认为世上只有一个人配受最高的恭维，那就是她自己。如果一个男人能获得众多女子的欢心，他一定惯于对她们个个灌蜜糖。
在他们住的公寓大楼里，她接受了属于同一性质的教诲。
同一个楼里住着一个戏院职员海尔先生。他是斯坦达戏院的经理。他的妻子是一个年纪３５岁浅黑型的可爱女人。他们属于如今在美国很普通的那一种人：靠工资过着体面生活的的人。海尔先生每星期４５元薪水。他的妻子很有魅力，模仿少年人的心思，反对过那种操持家务，养儿育女的家庭生活。像杜洛埃和嘉莉一样，他们租了三室一套的房间，在嘉莉楼上。
嘉莉搬来不久，海尔太太就和她有了交往，一同出去走走。很长时间，这是她唯一的同伴。经理太太的闲聊成了她认识外部世界的渠道。那些浅薄无聊的东西，那种对财富的崇尚，那些传统的道德观念，从不动脑筋的经理太太那里像筛子一样漏了出来，使嘉莉一时头脑糊涂起来。
另一方面，她自己的情感却是一种净化心灵的力量。她内心有一种不断促使她努力向上的力量，这一点是不能否认的。
那些情感通过心灵不断地召唤着她。门厅对面的套房里住着一个年轻的姑娘和她母亲。她们是从印第安纳州伊凡斯维城来的，一个铁路会计师的妻子和女儿。女儿来这儿学音乐，母亲来陪伴她。
嘉莉没有和她们结识。但是她看到那个女儿出出进进。有几次她看到她坐在客厅的钢琴前，还经常听到她弹琴。这少女就其身份而言，穿得过份考究。手指上戴着一两枚宝石戒指，弹琴时戒指在她雪白的手指上闪光。
嘉莉现在受到了音乐的感染。她的易感的气质和某些乐曲发生了共鸣，就好像竖琴的某根弦会随着钢琴上相应的琴键按动发生共鸣一样。她的情感天生细腻，某些忧伤的曲子在她心里引起了朦胧的沉思，勾起她对自己欠缺的东西的渴望，也使她更依恋自己拥有的美好东西。有一首短歌那位年轻的小姐弹得特别温柔缠绵。嘉莉听到从敞着门的楼下客厅里传出了这支歌。那正是白昼与夜色交替之际。在失业者和流浪汉的眼里，这种时刻给世事蒙上了一层忧伤沉思的色调。思绪转回遥远的过去，带回几束业已干枯的残花，那些消逝的欢乐。嘉莉坐在窗前朝外看着。杜洛埃从上午１０点出去还没有回来。她一个人散了一会儿步，看了一会儿贝塞路Ｍ路克莱写的一本书，是杜洛埃丢在那里的。但是她并不怎么喜欢这本书。然后她换了晚装。当她坐在那里看着对面的公园时，正像渴求变化和生命的自然界在这种时刻的情绪一样，她心里充满着企盼和忧愁。正当她思索着自己的新处境时，从楼下的客厅里悄悄传上来那支曲子，使她深受感动，百感交集。她不禁回忆起在她有限的生涯中那些最美好最悲伤的事情，一时间她悔恨自己的失足。
她正沉浸在这种情绪中，杜洛埃走了进来，带来一种完全不同的气氛。暮色已经降临，但是嘉莉忘了点灯。炉栅里的火也已经很微弱了。
鈥溎阍谀睦铮蔚拢库�澦盟〉陌疲凶拧�
鈥溤谡饫铮�澦怠�
她的声音里流露出哀怨和孤独的情绪，可是他没有听出来。他身上没有诗人的气质，不会在这种场合下弄清女人的心思，在人生的悲哀中给她以安慰。相反，他划了根火柴，点亮了煤气灯。
鈥溛梗�澦辛似鹄矗�溎阍谔恃劾岚ｂ��
她的眼睛里含着残留的泪痕，还没有干。
鈥溞辏♀�澦担�溎悴桓每薜摹ｂ��
他握着她的手，从他的自我主义出发，好心肠地认为她之所以哭，也许是因为他不在家她感到孤单的缘故。
鈥満昧撕昧耍�澦绦担�溝衷谝磺卸己昧恕Ｎ颐前樽耪庖衾掷刺蝗任璋伞ｂ�澰倜挥斜日飧缓鲜币说奶嵋榱恕＜卫蚵砩峡辞逅薹ɡ斫馑母星椋酝椤Ｋ刮薹ㄇ宄刂赋鏊娜钡慊蛘咚侵涞牟畋穑撬丫械搅恕Ｕ馐撬傅牡谝桓龃蟠怼�
傍晚，那个女孩在母亲的陪伴下迈着轻快的步子外出，杜洛埃对她的风度大加赞赏。这使嘉莉意识到女性那些时髦的姿态和动作的性质和意义：它们使人显得气度高雅，不同凡响。她在镜子面前，学着铁路会计师女儿的样子，噘起嘴唇，同时把头微微一常她轻盈地一摆身子提起裙子--杜洛埃不是在这女孩和别的女人身上一再指出这个动作吗，而嘉莉是天生善于模仿的。她开始学会了那些美貌虚荣的女子无一例外会做的小动作。总之，她关于举止风度的知识大大增加了。
她的外表也随之发生了变化：她成了一个风韵不凡的姑娘。
杜洛埃注意到了这些变化。那天早上他看到她头发上的新蝴蝶结和新发式。
鈥溎隳茄芡贩⒑芎每矗蔚拢�澦怠�
鈥準锹穑库�澦鹛鸬鼗卮稹Ｔ谕惶焖质粤艘恍┍鸬氖摈滞嬉舛�
她的步履比以前飘逸，这是模仿铁路会计师女儿的翩翩风度的结果。这同一楼的年轻小姐对她的影响真是一言难荆正是因为这些，当赫斯渥来访时，他所看到的那个年轻女人已不再是杜洛埃第一次搭讪的嘉莉了。她的服饰上和举止上的缺点已经基本上纠正了。她秀丽可爱，举止优美，由于缺乏自信而羞羞答答。大大的眼睛里带着一种孩子般的表情，这表情一下子吸引住了这位惺惺作态的正人君子。这种清新的魅力古而有之。他的情感还保留着一份对天真烂漫的青春魅力的赏识，现在这份情感被重新点燃了。他看着她的美丽的脸颊，感觉到微妙的生命之光正从那里散发出来。从她清澈的大眼睛里看不到一丝他耽于声色的天性看惯的狡猾。她的那点小小的虚荣心，他如果能看出来的话，只会使他感到有趣。
鈥溦嫫婀郑�澋彼怕沓道肴ナ保睦镌谙耄�湺怕灏Ｕ饧一镌趺茨馨阉绞帧ｂ�澦谎劬涂闯鏊那楦斜榷怕灏８哐拧�
马车在颠簸着前进，两旁的煤气路灯迅速向后退去。他的戴了手套的双手十指交叉着抱在胸前，眼前只看见灯光下的房间和嘉莉的脸，心里想着妙龄美人给人的乐趣。
鈥溛乙退皇ǎ�澦睦锱趟阕牛�湺怕灏２换峤橐獾摹ｂ�澦谛睦镆豢桃裁挥卸宰约貉诟撬粤邓氖率怠Ｋ⒉晃怕灏５南鹊檬终馐率档Ｐ摹Ｋ皇侨米约旱乃夹飨裼嗡堪愕仄∽牛竿馑夹飨裰┲胨恳谎峁以谑裁吹胤健�
他不知道也不可能猜出结果会是什么。
几星期以后，到处旅行的杜洛埃刚从俄玛哈短程出差回来，在芝加哥街上遇到一个穿着华丽的女人，是他众多老相识之一。他本来打算赶快回奥登广场给嘉莉一个惊喜，现在和这个熟人谈上瘾了，就改变了初衷。
鈥溩撸黄鸪苑谷ィ�澦档溃坏阋裁幌氲接锌赡芘龅绞烊耍瞧鹇榉场�
鈥満冒。�澦耐樗怠�
他们一起到一个适宜交谈的高级饭店去，相遇时还是下午５点钟，等吃完饭已是７点半了。
快讲完一件小趣事时，杜洛埃的脸上绽开了笑容。正在这时，他和赫斯渥的眼光相遇了。赫斯渥正和几个朋友一起进来，一看到杜洛埃和一个女人在一起，而这女人不是嘉莉，他心里马上得出了结论。
鈥満撸饣档埃�澦睦锵耄偶阜忠宸吆屯椋�溦饷次耷槲抟澹媚歉鲂」媚锷诵牧恕ｂ�澏怕灏５哪抗庥牒账逛紫嘤鲆院螅⒚挥性谝猓栽谇崴傻叵胝庀肽牵钡剿⑾趾账逛坠室庾白琶豢醇庞械愕Ｐ钠鹄础＝幼潘⒁獾胶笳叩囊恍┍砬椤Ｋ肫鹆思卫蛞约八巧洗蔚募妗＠咸欤匦敫账逛捉馐徒馐汀：鸵桓隼吓笥雅既涣纳习敫鲂∈辈挥Ω靡鸫缶」郑阉吹霉谘现氐摹�
他有生以来第一次感到良心不安了。这样复杂的道德问题不是他能弄明白的。赫斯渥会笑话他用情不专，他会和赫斯渥一起哈哈大笑。嘉莉不会听到的，现在共餐的女友也不会知道的。但是他不能不感到事情很糟糕--他的名誉沾上了污点，可是他实际上并没有做什么坏事。他无精打采地结束了晚餐，送女友上了车，然后回家了。
鈥溗坏忝幌蛭姨崞渌陆崾兜恼庑┣槿寺铮�澓账逛仔睦锵耄�溗晕野阉闯烧嫘陌歉鲂」媚锏摹ｂ��
鈥溛腋崭瞻阉樯芨卫颍貌换崛衔一乖谘盎ㄎ柿桑�"杜洛埃心里想。
鈥溛夷翘炜醇懔耍�澫乱淮味怕灏Ｗ呓羌宜厝サ母呒毒萍沂保账逛孜潞偷囟运怠Ｏ窀改付孕『⑺祷耙谎凳镜厣斐隽耸持浮�
鈥溎鞘俏业囊桓隼舷嗍丁Ｎ腋粘龀嫡臼弊布模�澏怕灏＝馐偷溃�溗郧笆歉龃竺廊恕ｂ�濃�湶皇腔购苡械阄β穑库�澚硪桓黾僮翱嫘Φ厮怠�
鈥湴Γ皇堑模�澏怕灏Ｋ担�溦庖淮沃皇嵌悴坏舳选ｂ�濃�溎阏獯慰梢栽谡饫锎艏柑欤库�澓账逛孜省�
鈥溨荒艽艏柑臁ｂ��
鈥溎阋欢ㄒ歉鲂」媚锍隼春臀乙黄鸪远俜梗�澦担�溎惆阉卦诩依锟峙乱盟苹盗恕Ｎ依炊┮桓霭幔颐且黄鹑タ辞�路杰佛逊的戏。鈥濃�溛颐挥泄厮�澩葡彼担�溛乙欢ɡ础ｂ�澓账逛滋苏饣昂芨咝恕Ｋ幌嘈哦怕灏６约卫蛴惺裁锤星椤？醋耪飧龃┳呕鑫抻俏蘼堑耐葡保挥啥始善鹫飧鏊不兜娜恕Ｋ加们榈械哪抗猓踊呛枉攘Φ慕嵌壤创蛄克页鏊娜醯闼凇：廖抟晌剩残砜梢园讯怕灏？醋龊萌耍侨绻盟鼻槿丝矗陀械闳萌丝床黄稹Ｋ耆梢园阉恕６粤耍绻苋眉卫蚩吹叫瞧谒哪抢嘈∫馔猓馐虑榫退愣ㄏ吕戳恕Ｋψ帕奶焓保宰永锶丛谧庑┠钔罚负跤械愕靡馔瘟恕？墒嵌怕灏Ｒ坏忝挥芯醪欤挥心芰Ψ治鱿窈账逛啄侵秩说哪抗夂颓樾鳌Ｋ驹谀抢铮⑿ψ沤邮芰搜耄呐笥讶丛谟美嫌グ愕哪抗獯蛄克�
这出人物关系特别复杂的喜剧中的女主人公这时并没有在想他们中的任何一个。她还在忙于调整自己的思想和感情，以便适应新环境，眼下还没有为这两人感到烦恼和痛苦的危险。
一天晚上，杜洛埃看见她在镜子前穿衣。
鈥溂蔚拢�澦话牙∷担�溝嘈拍惚湫槿倭恕ｂ�濃�溍徽饣厥拢�澦卮稹�
鈥準堑模阏嫫良恕ｂ�澦底庞酶觳猜ё∷�湸┥夏隳羌罾短鬃埃掖憧聪啡ァｂ�濃�湴パ剑乙丫鹩６裢砗退黄鹑タ床├阑幔�澦傅鼗卮稹�
鈥溎愦鹩α寺穑库�澦担牟辉谘傻叵胱耪馇榭觥ｂ�溡腔涣宋遥也挪换崛タ床├阑崮亍ｂ�濃�溛也恢溃�澕卫蚧卮穑恢绾问呛茫还裁挥刑岢鋈∠蓟崤闼聪啡ァ�
就在这时有人敲门，那个女仆递进一封信来。
鈥溗狄匾舻模�澟徒馐退怠�
鈥準呛账逛桌吹男牛�澏怕灏２鹦攀保醋判欧馍系拿炙档馈�
鈥溎忝墙裢硪欢ㄒ臀乙黄鹑タ辞�路杰佛逊的戏，鈥澬爬锼担�溛颐悄翘焖刀ǖ模獯胃梦易龆鸬陌才哦疾凰恪ｂ�濃�溎憧矗馐略趺窗炷兀库�澏怕灏Ｌ煺娴匚省＜卫蚵南氪鹩Α�
鈥溎憔龆ò桑槔恚�澦兴Ａ舻鼗卮稹�
鈥溛蚁耄悄隳苋∠吐ド系脑蓟幔颐腔故侨サ暮茫�澏怕灏Ｋ怠�
鈥溍晃侍猓�澕卫虿患铀妓鞯鼗卮稹�
杜洛埃找信纸写回信的当儿，嘉莉去换衣服。她几乎没想一想为什么对这个邀请这么感兴趣。
鈥溛乙灰淹贩⑹岢勺蛱炷侵址⑿停库�澦掷锎罾藕眉讣路隼次实馈�
鈥湹比缓昧耍�澦芨咝说鼗卮稹�
看到他一点没有疑心，她放心了。她并不认为她愿意去的原因是因为赫斯渥对她有吸引力。她只是感到赫斯渥、杜洛埃和她三个人一起玩的想法比别的两个安排更有趣。她仔细地打扮好，向楼上道了歉，就出发了。
鈥溛业盟担�澦亲叩较吩捍筇保账逛姿担�溄裢砟闾乇鸬孛匀恕ｂ�澰谒奚偷哪抗庀录卫蚋械叫奶�
鈥溝衷诟依窗伞ｂ�澦底糯反┕菹⒋苏�
如果说有什么盛装展览，那就是在戏院里了。俗话用鈥溡凰幌粹�澬稳菀路ù匦拢谡饫镆坏悴患佟�
鈥溎憧垂芊鹧费莸南仿穑库�澰诎崂铮嗌沓卫蛭实馈�
鈥溍挥校�澦卮稹�
鈥湴。媸且桓鲇腥さ难菰保芴秩讼不丁ｂ�澦绦底牛谜庑┤怂芟氲降姆悍涸抻锝樯茏拧Ｋ蚍⒍怕灏Ｈト〗谀康ィ阉吹挠泄亟芊鹧返氖滤蹈＜卫蚋械剿挡怀龅目炖帧Ｕ饫锏幕肪常崂锏淖笆危榈姆缍�--这一切像催眠术一样把她迷住了。好几次他们的目光偶然相遇，于是一股情感的热流从他眼里向她袭来，这是她从来没有经历过的。她无法解释这一点，因为下一次赫斯渥的目光和手势中又似乎只有亲切和殷勤，对她没有一点意见了。
杜洛埃也参加谈话，但是相形之下，他一点也不风趣。赫斯渥让他们两个人都感到愉快，所以嘉莉认为他不同凡响。她本能地感到他比杜洛埃坚强高雅，虽然他同时又那么其实。到第三幕结束时，她已认定杜洛埃只是个好人，在别的方面尚有欠缺。在明显的对比下，她对杜洛埃的评价越来越低。
鈥溄裢砦夜煤苡淇欤�澫方崾蟪鱿吩菏保卫蛩怠�
鈥準前。媪钊擞淇欤�澏怕灏＜恿艘痪洹Ｋ坏阋膊恢溃丫蛄艘怀≌秸姆老弑幌魅趿恕Ｋ拖裰泄实圩诹ド献悦靡猓恢浪淖詈玫氖》菀驯蝗硕崛チ恕�
鈥溎忝前镂叶裙艘桓雒篮玫囊雇恚裨蛭一岣械胶芊ξ兜模�澓账逛姿档溃�溤偌ｂ�澦兆〖卫虻男∈郑徽蟾星榈牡缌髟谒侵淞鞴�
鈥溛依哿耍�澋倍怕灏？谒祷笆保卫蛩档溃碜映笠涝诔瞪系淖簧稀�
鈥溎悄阈菹⒁换岫胰コ楦獭ｂ�澦底耪玖似鹄矗薮赖刈叩降绯登懊娴钠教ㄈィ哉庑┌榈挠蜗诽沃�
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