《嘉莉妹妹》石磨的碾动：第一道糠屑

　　Carrie pondered over this situation as consistently as Hurstwood, once she got the facts adjusted in her mind. It took several days for her to fully realise that the approach of the dissolution of her husband's business meant commonplace struggle and privation. Her mind went back to her early venture in Chicago, the Hansons and their flat, and her heart revolted. That was terrible！ Everything about poverty was terrible. She wished she knew a way out. Her recent experiences with the Vances had wholly unfitted her to view her own state with complacence. The glamour of the high life of the city had, in the few experiences afforded her by the former, seized her completely. She had been taught how to dress and where to go without having ample means to do either. Now, these things -- ever-present realities as they were -- filled her eyes and mind. The more circumscribed became her state, the more entrancing seemed this other. And now poverty threatened to seize her entirely and to remove this other world far upward like a heaven to which any Lazarus might extend, appealingly, his hands.

　　So, too, the ideal brought into her life by Ames remained. He had gone, but here was his word that riches were not everything; that there was a great deal more in the world than she knew; that the stage was good, and the literature she read poor. He was a strong man and clean -- how much stronger and better than Hurstwood and Drouet she only half formulated to herself, but the difference was painful. It was something to which she voluntarily closed her eyes.

　　During the last three months of the Warren Street connection, Hurstwood took parts of days off and hunted, tracking the business advertisements. It was a more or less depressing business, wholly because of the thought that he must soon get something or he would begin to live on the few hundred dollars he was saving, and then he would have nothing to invest -- he would have to hire out as a clerk.

　　Everything he discovered in his line advertised as an opportunity, was either too expensive or too wretched for him. Besides, winter was coming, the papers were announcing hardships, and there was a general feeling of hard times in the air, or, at least, he thought so. In his worry, other people's worries became apparent. No item about a firm failing, a family starving, or a man dying upon the streets, supposedly of starvation, but arrested his eye as he scanned the morning papers. Once the "World" came out with a flaring announcement about "80,000 people out of employment in New York this winter," which struck as a knife at his heart.

　　"Eighty thousand！" he thought. "What an awful thing that is."

　　This was new reasoning for Hurstwood. In the old days the world had seemed to be getting along well enough. He had been wont to see similar things in the "Daily News," in Chicago, but they did not hold his attention. Now, these things were like grey clouds hovering along the horizon of a clear day. They threatened to cover and obscure his life with chilly greyness. He tried to shake them off, to forget and brace up. Sometimes he said to himself, mentally:

　　"What's the use worrying? I'm not out yet. I've got six weeks more. Even if worst comes to worst, I've got enough to live on for six months."

　　Curiously, as he troubled over his future, his thoughts occasionally reverted to his wife and family. He had avoided such thoughts for the first three years as much as possible. He hated her, and he could get along without her. Let her go. He would do well enough. Now, however, when he was not doing well enough, he began to wonder what she was doing, how his children were getting along. He could see them living as nicely as ever, occupying the comfortable house and using his property.

　　"By George！ it's a shame they should have it all," he vaguely thought to himself on several occasions. "I didn't do anything."

　　As he looked back now and analysed the situation which led up to his taking the money, he began mildly to justify himself. What had he done -- what in the world -- that should bar him out this way and heap such difficulties upon him? It seemed only yesterday to him since he was comfortable and well-to-do. But now it was all wrested from him.

　　"She didn't deserve what she got out of me, that is sure. I didn't do so much, if everybody could just know."

　　There was no thought that the facts ought to be advertised. It was only a mental justification he was seeking from himself -- something that would enable him to bear his state as a righteous man.

　　One afternoon, five weeks before the Warren Street place closed up, he left the saloon to visit three or four places he saw advertised in the "Herald." One was down in Gold Street, and he visited that, but did not enter. It was such a cheap looking place he felt that he could not abide it. Another was on the Bowery, which he knew contained many showy resorts. It was near Grand Street, and turned out to be very handsomely fitted up. He talked around about investments for fully three-quarters of an hour with the proprietor, who maintained that his health was poor, and that was the reason he wished a partner.

　　"Well, now, just how much money would it take to buy a half interest here?" said Hurstwood, who saw seven hundred dollars as his limit.

　　"Three thousand," said the man.

　　Hurstwood's jaw fell.

　　"Cash?" he said.

　　"Cash."

　　He tried to put on an air of deliberation, as one who might really buy; but his eyes showed gloom. He wound up by saying he would think it over, and came away. The man he had been talking to sensed his condition in a vague way.

　　"I don't think he wants to buy," he said to himself. "He doesn't talk right."

　　The afternoon was as grey as lead and cold. It was blowing up a disagreeable winter wind. He visited a place far up on the east side, near Sixty-ninth Street, and it was five o'clock, and growing dim, when he reached there. A portly German kept this place.

　　"How about this ad. of yours?" asked Hurstwood, who rather objected to the looks of the place.

　　"Oh, dat iss all over," said the German. "I vill not sell now."

　　"Oh, is that so?"

　　"Yes; dere is nothing to dat. It iss all over."

　　"Very well," said Hurstwood, turning around.

　　The German paid no more attention to him, and it made him angry.

　　"The crazy ass！" he said to himself. "What does he want to advertise for?"

　　Wholly depressed, he started for Thirteenth Street. The flat had only a light in the kitchen, where Carrie was working. He struck a match and, lighting the gas, sat down in the dining-room without even greeting her. She came to the door and looked in.

　　"It's you, is it?" she said, and went back.

　　"Yes," he said, without even looking up from the evening paper he had bought.

　　Carrie saw things were wrong with him. He was not so handsome when gloomy. The lines at the sides of the eyes were deepened. Naturally dark of skin, gloom made him look slightly sinister. He was quite a disagreeable figure.

　　Carrie set the table and brought in the meal.

　　"Dinner's ready," she said, passing him for something.

　　He did not answer, reading on.

　　She came in and sat down at her place, feeling exceedingly wretched.

　　"Won't you eat now?" she asked.

　　He folded his paper and drew near, silence holding for a time, except for the "Pass me's."

　　"It's been gloomy to-day, hasn't it?" ventured Carrie, after a time.

　　"Yes," he said.

　　He only picked at his food.

　　"Are you still sure to close up?" said Carrie, venturing to take up the subject which they had discussed often enough.

　　"Of course we are," he said, with the slightest modification of sharpness.

　　This retort angered Carrie. She had had a dreary day of it herself.

　　"You needn't talk like that," she said.

　　"Oh！" he exclaimed, pushing back from the table, as if to say more, but letting it go at that. Then he picked up his paper. Carrie left her seat, containing herself with difficulty. He saw she was hurt.

　　"Don't go 'way," he said, as she started back into the kitchen. "Eat your dinner."

　　She passed, not answering.

　　He looked at the paper a few moments, and then rose up and put on his coat.

　　"I'm going down town, Carrie," he said, coming out. "I'm out of sorts to-night."

　　She did not answer.

　　"Don't be angry," he said. "It will be all right to-morrow."

　　He looked at her, but she paid no attention to him, working at her dishes.

　　"Good-bye！" he said finally, and went out.

　　This was the first strong result of the situation between them, but with the nearing of the last day of business the gloom became almost a permanent thing. Hurstwood could not conceal his feelings about the matter. Carrie could not help wondering where she was drifting. It got so that they talked even less than usual, and yet it was not Hurstwood who felt any objection to Carrie. It was Carrie who shied away from him. This he noticed. It aroused an objection to her becoming indifferent to him. He made the possibility of friendly intercourse almost a giant task, and then noticed with discontent that Carrie added to it by her manner and made it more impossible.

　　At last the final day came. When it actually arrived, Hurstwood, who had got his mind into such a state where a thunder-clap and raging storm would have seemed highly appropriate, was rather relieved to find that it was a plain, ordinary day. The sun shone, the temperature was pleasant. He felt, as he came to the breakfast table, that it wasn't so terrible, after all.

　　"Well," he said to Carrie, "to-day's my last day on earth."

　　Carrie smiled in answer to his humour.

　　Hurstwood glanced over his paper rather gayly. He seemed to have lost a load.

　　"I'll go down for a little while," he said after breakfast, "and then I'll look around. To-morrow I'll spend the whole day looking about. I think I can get something, now this thing's off my hands."

　　He went out smiling and visited the place. Shaughnessy was there. They had made all arrangements to share according to their interests. When, however, he had been there several hours, gone out three more, and returned, his elation had departed. As much as he had objected to the place, now that it was no longer to exist, he felt sorry. He wished that things were different.

　　Shaughnessy was coolly business-like.

　　"Well," he said at five o'clock, "we might as well count the change and divide."

　　They did so. The fixtures had already been sold and the sum divided.

　　"Good-night," said Hurstwood at the final moment, in a last effort to be genial.

　　"So long," said Shaughnessy, scarcely deigning a notice.

　　Thus the Warren Street arrangement was permanently concluded.

　　Carrie had prepared a good dinner at the flat, but after his ride up, Hurstwood was in a solemn and reflective mood.

　　"Well?" said Carrie, inquisitively.

　　"I'm out of that," he answered, taking off his coat.

　　As she looked at him, she wondered what his financial state was now. They ate and talked a little.

　　"Will you have enough to buy in anywhere else?" asked Carrie.

　　"No," he said. "I'll have to get something else and save up."

　　"It would be nice if you could get some place," said Carrie, prompted by anxiety and hope.

　　"I guess I will," he said reflectively.

　　For some days thereafter he put on his overcoat regularly in the morning and sallied forth. On these ventures he first consoled himself with the thought that with the seven hundred dollars he had he could still make some advantageous arrangement. He thought about going to some brewery, which, as he knew, frequently controlled saloons which they leased, and get them to help him. Then he remembered that he would have to pay out several hundred any way for fixtures and that he would have nothing left for his monthly expenses. It was costing him nearly eighty dollars a month to live.

　　"No," he said, in his sanest moments, "I can't do it. I'll get something else and save up."

　　This getting-something proposition complicated itself the moment he began to think of what it was he wanted to do. Manage a place? Where should he get such a position? The papers contained no requests for managers. Such positions, he knew well enough, were either secured by long years of service or were bought with a half or third interest. Into a place important enough to need such a manager he had not money enough to buy.

　　Nevertheless, he started out. His clothes were very good and his appearance still excellent, but it involved the trouble of deluding. People, looking at him, imagined instantly that a man of his age, stout and well dressed, must be well off. He appeared a comfortable owner of something, a man from whom the common run of mortals could well expect gratuities. Being now forty-three years of age, and comfortably built, walking was not easy. He had not been used to exercise for many years. His legs tired, his shoulders ached, and his feet pained him at the close of the day, even when he took street cars in almost every direction. The mere getting up and down, if long continued, produced this result.

　　The fact that people took him to be better off than he was, he well understood. It was so painfully clear to him that it retarded his search. Not that he wished to be less well-appearing, but that he was ashamed to belie his appearance by incongruous appeals. So he hesitated, wondering what to do.

　　He thought of the hotels, but instantly he remembered that he had had no experience as a clerk, and, what was more important, no acquaintances or friends in that line to whom he could go. He did know some hotel owners in several cities, including New York, but they knew of his dealings with Fitzgerald and Moy. He could not apply to them. He thought of other lines suggested by large buildings or businesses which he knew of -- wholesale groceries, hardware, insurance concerns, and the like -- but he had had no experience.

　　How to go about getting anything was a bitter thought. Would he have to go personally and ask; wait outside an office door, and, then, distinguished and affluent looking, announce that he was looking for something to do? He strained painfully at the thought. No, he could not do that.

　　He really strolled about, thinking, and then, the weather being cold, stepped into a hotel. He knew hotels well enough to know that any decent looking individual was welcome to a chair in the lobby. This was in the Broadway Central, which was then one of the most important hotels in the city. Taking a chair here was a painful thing to him. To think he should come to this！ He had heard loungers about hotels called chair-warmers. He had called them that himself in his day. But here he was, despite the possibility of meeting some one who knew him, shielding himself from cold and the weariness of the streets in a hotel lobby.

　　"I can't do this way," he said to himself. "There's no use of my starting out mornings without first thinking up some place to go. I'll think of some places and then look them up."

　　It occurred to him that the positions of bartenders were sometimes open, but he put this out of his mind. Bartender -- he, the ex-manager！

　　It grew awfully dull sitting in the hotel lobby, and so at four he went home. He tried to put on a business air as he went in, but it was a feeble imitation. The rocking-chair in the dining-room was comfortable. He sank into it gladly, with several papers he had bought, and began to read.

　　As she was going through the room to begin preparing dinner, Carrie said:

　　"The man was here for the rent to-day."

　　"Oh, was he?" said Hurstwood.

　　The least wrinkle crept into his brow as he remembered that this was February 2d, the time the man always called. He fished down in his pocket for his purse, getting the first taste of paying out when nothing is coming in. He looked at the fat, green roll as a sick man looks at the one possible saving cure. Then he counted off twenty-eight dollars.

　　"Here you are," he said to Carrie, when she came through again.

　　He buried himself in his papers and read. Oh, the rest of it -- the relief from walking and thinking！ What Lethean waters were these floods of telegraphed intelligence！ He forgot his troubles, in part. Here was a young, handsome woman, if you might believe the newspaper drawing, suing a rich, fat, candy-making husband in Brooklyn for divorce. Here was another item detailing the wrecking of a vessel in ice and snow off Prince's Bay on Staten Island. A long, bright column told of the doings in the theatrical world -- the plays produced, the actors appearing, the managers making announcements. Fannie Davenport was just opening at the Fifth Avenue. Daly was producing "King Lear." He read of the early departure for the season of a party composed of the Vanderbilts and their friends for Florida. An interesting shooting affray was on in the mountains of Kentucky. So he read, read, read, rocking in the warm room near the radiator and waiting for dinner to be served.

　　嘉莉一旦对事实有了正确的认识，就像赫斯渥一样，一直考虑着目前的处境。她花了几天的工夫才充分认识到，她丈夫的生意即将完结，这意味着他们要为生活而挣扎，要遭受贫困。她回想起她早年冒险闯荡芝加哥的日子，想起汉生夫妇和他们的那套房子，她心里很是反感。这太可怕了！凡是和贫困有关的事都是可怕的。她多么希望自己能找到一条出路埃最近和万斯夫妇一起的一些经历，使得她完全不能以自满的心情来看待自己的处境了。万斯夫妇带给她的几次经历，使她彻底迷上了这个城市的上流社会的生活。有人教会了她怎样打扮，到何处去玩，而这两者她都没有足够的财力做到。如今，她满眼和满脑子都是这些事情--就像是些永存的现实。她的处境越是紧迫，这另一种光景就越是显得迷人。现在贫困正威胁着要将她整个俘获，并把这另一个世界使劲朝上推去，使它就像任何穷人都会向之伸手乞讨的上天一般。

　　同样也留下了艾姆斯带进她生活的理想。他的人走了，但他的话还在：财富不是一切；世界上还有很多她不知道的事；当演员不错；她读的文学作品不怎么样。他是个强者，而且纯洁--究竟比赫斯渥和杜洛埃强多少、好多少，她也只是一知半解，但是期间的差别令她痛苦。这是她有意不去正视的事。

　　在沃伦街酒店干的最后三个月里，赫斯渥抽出部分时间，按着那些商业广告，四下寻找机会。这事多少有些令人伤感，原因完全在于他想到他必须马上找到事情做，否则他就得开始靠他攒的那几百块钱过活，那样他就会没钱投资，他就不得不受雇于他人，做个职员了。

　　他在广告中发现的每一家看来能提供机会的酒店对他都不合适，要么太贵，要么太糟。另外，冬天即将来临，报纸在告诉人们困难时期到了，人们普遍感到时世艰难，或者至少他是这么认为的。他自己在犯愁，因此别人的忧愁也变得显而易见了。他在浏览早报时，什么商店倒闭，家庭挨饿，路人据猜因为饥饿而倒毙街头，没有一则这类的消息能逃过他的眼睛。一次，《世界报》刊出了一条耸人听闻的消息说：鈥溄穸�纽约有八万人失业。鈥澱庠蛐挛啪拖褚话训蹲樱�刺痛了他的心。

　　鈥湴送蛉耍�鈥澦�想。鈥溦馐露嗝纯膳卵剑♀��

　　这种想法对于赫斯渥是全新的。从前，人们似乎都过得挺好。在芝加哥时，他曾常常在《每日新闻》上看到类似的事情，但是没有引起过他的注意。如今，这些事情就像是晴朗的天边铺着的阴云，威胁着要将他的生活笼罩和遮蔽在阴冷灰暗之中。他想甩开它们，忘记它们，振作起来。有时候，他心里自言自语：鈥湻赋钣惺裁从媚兀课一姑煌甑奥铩Ｎ一褂辛�个星期的时间。即便出现最糟的情况，我还有足够的钱过上六个月。"说来奇怪，当他为自己的前途犯愁的时候，他偶尔会转念想起他的太太和家庭来。头三年中，他尽量避而不想这些。他恨她，没她他也能过活，让她去吧。他能过得挺好。可是现在，当他过得不太好时，他却开始想起她，不知她在做些什么，他的孩子们过得怎样。他能想象得出，他们照旧过得很好，住着那幢舒适的房子，用着他的财产。

　　鈥溊咸煲�，他们全都给占去了，真是太不像话了！鈥澯屑复嗡�这样模糊地自忖着。鈥溛铱擅桓墒裁椿凳隆ｂ�澫衷冢�当他回首往事，分析导致他偷那笔钱的情形时，他开始适度地替自己辩护。他干了什么，究竟干了什么，要把他这样排挤出去，要把这么多的困难堆在他的头上？对他来说，仿佛就在昨天，他还过得舒适、宽裕。可是现在，他却被剥夺了这一切。

　　鈥溗�不应该享受从我这里拿去的这一切，这一点可以肯定。我没干什么大不了的坏事，要是人人都明白这个就好了。鈥澦�没有想过应该公开这些事实。这只不过是他从自身寻找的一种精神辩护--它使他能够像个正直的人一样忍受自己的处境。

　　在关闭沃伦街酒店前五个星期的一天下午，他离开酒店去拜访他在《先驱报》上看见登有广告的三四个地方。一个在金街，他去看了，但没进去。这地方看上去太寒酸了，他觉得无法忍受。另一个在波威里街上，他知道这条街上有很多豪华的酒店。这家酒店靠近格蓝德街，果然装修得非常漂亮。他转弯抹角地和店东兜着圈子谈论投资问题，整整谈了有３刻钟。店东强调说，他身体不好，因此想找个合伙人。

　　鈥溎敲矗�这个，买一半股权要多少钱呢？鈥澓账逛孜实溃�他想最多他只能出７００块钱。

　　鈥湥常埃埃翱椤ｂ�澞侨怂怠�

　　赫斯渥的脸拉长了。

　　鈥溝纸鹇穑库�澦�说。

　　鈥溝纸稹ｂ��

　　他想装出在考虑的样子，像是真能买似的，但他的眼里却流露出忧愁。他说要考虑一下，结束了谈话，然后走掉了。和他谈话的店东依稀觉察到他的境遇不佳。

　　鈥溛铱此�是不想买，鈥澦�自语道。鈥溗�说话不对劲。鈥澱馐歉龌颐擅衫潇�飕的下午。天刮起了令人不快的寒风。

　　他去拜访远在东区，靠近六十九街的一家酒店。当他到达那里时，已经５点钟，天色渐渐暗下来了。店东是个大腹便便的德国人。

　　鈥溙柑改忝堑堑恼庠蚬愀婧寐穑库�澓账逛孜剩�这家酒店的外观很令他反感。

　　鈥溹蓿�这事已经过去了，鈥澞歉龅鹿�人说。鈥溛蚁衷诓宦袅恕ｂ�濃�溑叮�这是真的吗？鈥濃�準堑模�现在没有这回事了。这事已经过去了。鈥濃�満芎茫�鈥澓账逛姿底牛�转过身去。

　　那德国人不再睬他了，这使他很生气。

　　鈥溦飧霰康胺枇耍♀�澦�对自己说。鈥溎撬�干嘛要登那个广告？鈥澦�彻底灰心了，便朝十三街走去。家里只有厨房里亮着一盏灯。嘉莉正在里面干活。他擦了一根火柴，点亮了煤气灯，也没有招呼她，就在餐室里坐下了。她走到门口，朝里看了看。

　　鈥準悄慊乩戳寺穑库�澦�说着，又走了回去。

　　鈥準堑模�鈥澦�说，埋头盯着买来的晚报，都没抬眼看一下。

　　嘉莉知道他的情况不妙了。他不高兴时，就不那么漂亮了。眼角边的皱纹也加深了。天生的黑皮肤，忧郁使他看上去有点凶恶。这时的他十分令人讨厌。

　　嘉莉摆好饭桌，端上饭菜。

　　鈥湻购昧耍�鈥澦�说，从他身边走过去拿东西。

　　他没有答话，继续看报。

　　她进来后，坐在自己的位子上，很伤心。

　　鈥溎阆衷诓怀苑孤穑库�澦�问道。

　　他折起报纸，坐近了一些，但除了说鈥溓氲莞�我某某鈥澲�外，一直沉默不语。

　　鈥溄裉旌芤趵洌�是吧？鈥澒�了一会儿，嘉莉开口说道。

　　鈥準堑模�鈥澦�说。

　　他只是毫无胃口地吃着饭。

　　鈥溎忝腔故强隙ǚ枪氐瓴豢陕穑库�澕卫蛩担�大胆地提到他们经常讨论的话题。

　　鈥湹比豢隙�罗，鈥澦�说，他那生硬的口气只是稍稍有一点缓和。

　　这句回答惹恼了嘉莉。她自己已经为此生了一天的闷气。

　　鈥溎阌貌蛔拍茄�说话，鈥澦�说。

　　鈥溑叮♀�澦�叫了起来，从桌边朝后推了推座位，像是要再说些什么，但是就此算了。然后，他拿起了报纸。嘉莉离开了座位，她好不容易控制住了自己。他知道她伤心了。

　　鈥湵鹱呖�，鈥澋彼�动身回厨房时，他说。鈥湷阅愕姆拱伞ｂ�澦�走了过去，没有答话。

　　他看了一会儿报纸，然后站起身来，穿上外套。

　　鈥溛乙�到市区去，嘉莉，鈥澦�说着，走了出来。鈥溄裢砦倚那椴缓谩ｂ�澦�没有答话。

　　鈥湵鹕�气，鈥澦�说，鈥溍魈煲磺卸蓟岷玫摹ｂ��

　　他看着她，但是她不睬他，只顾洗她的盘子。

　　鈥溤偌�！鈥澴詈笏�说，走了出去。

　　这是眼前的处境在他们之间第一次产生的强烈的后果。

　　然而，随着酒店关闭的日子的临近，忧郁几乎成了永久的东西。赫斯渥无法掩饰他对这事的感想。嘉莉不禁担心自己会向何处飘泊。这样一来，他们之间的谈话比平时更少，这倒并不是因为赫斯渥对嘉莉有什么不满，而是嘉莉要躲着他。这一点他注意到了。这倒引起了他对她的不满，因为她对他冷淡。

　　他把可能进行友好的交谈几乎当成了一项艰巨的任务，但是随后却发现，嘉莉的态度使得这项任务更加艰巨，更加不可能，这真令他不满。

　　终于，最后的一天到了。赫斯渥原以为这一天必定会有晴天霹雳和狂风骤雨，并已经作好了这种思想准备。可是，当这一天真的来临时，他发现也只是个平常的普通日子，很感欣慰。阳光灿烂，气温宜人。当他坐到早餐桌旁时，他发现这事终究并不怎么可怕。

　　鈥湴Γ�鈥澦�对嘉莉说，鈥溄裉焓俏业哪┤铡ｂ�澏运�的幽默，嘉莉报以一笑。

　　赫斯渥还是很愉快地浏览着报纸。他像是丢掉了一个包袱。

　　鈥溛乙�去市区待一会儿，鈥澰绶购笏�说，鈥溔缓笪揖腿フ艺铱矗�明天我一整天都要去找。现在酒店不用我管了，我想我能找到事干的。"他笑着出了门，去了酒店。肖内西在店里。他们办妥了一切手续，按照股份分配财产。可是，当他在那里耽搁了几个钟头，又出去待了三个钟头后再回到那里，他那兴奋劲没有了。

　　尽管他曾经很不满意这家酒店，但现在眼见它将不复存在，他还是感到难过。他真希望情况不是这样。

　　肖内西则十分冷静，毫不动情。

　　鈥溛梗�鈥澦�５点钟时说道，鈥溛颐亲詈冒蚜闱�数一数，分了吧。鈥澦�们这样做了。固定设备已经卖了，钱也分了。

　　鈥溤偌�了，鈥澓账逛自谧詈笠豢趟担�最后一次想表现得友好一些。

　　鈥溤偌�，鈥澬つ谖魉担�几乎不屑注意这个。

　　沃伦街的生意就这样永远做完了。

　　嘉莉在家里做了一顿丰盛的晚餐，可是，当赫斯渥坐车回来时，他看上去神情严肃，满腹心事。

　　鈥溤趺囱�啦？鈥澕卫蜓�问道。

　　鈥溛野咽虑榘焱炅恕ｂ�澦�答道，脱下外套。

　　她看着他，很想知道他现在的经济状况怎么样了。他们吃着饭，交谈了几句。

　　鈥溎愕那�够在别的酒店入股吗？鈥澕卫蛭省�

　　鈥湶还唬�鈥澦�说。鈥溛业谜倚┍鸬氖虑樽觯�攒起钱来。鈥濃�溡�是你能谋到一个职位就好了，鈥澖孤呛拖Ｍ�促使嘉莉这样说道。

　　鈥溛蚁胛一岬模�鈥澦�若有所思地说。

　　这以后的一些日子里，每天早晨，他按时穿上大衣，动身出门。这样出门时，他总是自我安慰地想着，他手头有７００块钱，还是能够谈成什么有利的买卖的。他想到去找一些酿酒厂，据他所知，酿酒厂往往辖有出租的酒店，可以去找他们帮帮忙。然后，他想起他总得付出几百块钱买那些固定设备，这样一来，他就会没钱支付每月的费用了。现在他每个月差不多要花８０块钱的生活费。

　　鈥湶恍校�鈥澦�在头脑清醒的时候说。鈥溛也荒苷庋�做。我要找些别的事情做，攒起钱来。鈥澮坏┧�开始考虑他究竟想做什么样的事情时，这个找些别的事情的计划就复杂化了。做经理吗？他能从哪里谋到这样的职位呢？报纸上没有招聘经理的启事。这种职位要不是靠多年的服务晋升而得，就是要出一半或者１A３的股份去买，对此，他是最清楚不过了。他可没有足够的钱去一个大到需要这样一个经理的酒店买个经理来做。

　　不过，他还是着手去找。他还是衣冠楚楚，外貌依旧很出众，但是这却带来了造成错觉的麻烦。一看见他，人们就会以为，像他这般年龄的人，身体结实且衣着得体，一定非常富有。

　　他看上去像是生活舒适的某个产业主，一般的人可以指望从他这样的人手里得到些赏钱。现在他已经四十有三，长得又福态，步行并不是件易事。他已经多年不习惯这样的运动了。虽然他几乎每去一处都乘坐有轨电车，但一天下来，他还是感到腿发软、肩发痛、脚发疼。单单上车下车，时间长了，也会产生这种后果的。

　　他十分清楚，人们看他外表上比实际上有钱。他非常痛苦地明白这一点，从而妨碍了他寻找机会。这倒不是说他希望自己外表看上去差一些，而是说他羞于提出与自己的外表不相称的要求。因此，他迟疑不决，不知怎么去做才好。

　　他想过去旅馆做事，但立刻想起自己在这方面毫无经验，而且，更重要的是，在这一行里，他没有熟人或朋友可投。在包括纽约在内的几个城市里，他的确认识一些旅馆主人，但是他们都知道他和费莫酒店的关系。他不能求职于他们。由那些他知道的大厦或大商店，他想到其它的一些行业，如批发杂货、五金器材、保险公司等等，但是这些他都没有经验。

　　考虑该怎样去谋职是件苦恼的事。他是否得亲自去询问，等在办公室门外，然后以这般高贵有钱的模样，宣布自己是来求职的？他费劲而痛苦地想着这个问题。不，他不能这么做。

　　他真的去四处奔走，一路思索着。然后，因为天气寒冷，走进了一家旅馆。他对旅馆很了解，知道任何体面的人都可以在门厅的椅子上坐一坐。这是在百老汇中央旅馆里，这家旅馆当时是纽约最重要的旅馆之一。来这里坐坐，对他来说是很不好受的。简直无法想象，他竟然会弄到这步田地！他听说过在旅馆里闲荡的人被叫作蹭座者。在他得意的时候，他自己也这样叫过他们。可是现在，尽管有可能会碰到某个熟人，他还是来到这里，待在这家旅馆的门厅里，一来避避寒，二来可免受街头奔波之苦。

　　鈥溛艺庋�做是不行的，鈥澦�对自己说，鈥湶皇孪认牒靡�去什么地方，天天早上就这样盲目动身出门是不管用的。我要想好一些地方，然后再去寻找。鈥澦�想起酒吧侍者的位置有时会有空缺，但是他又打消了这个念头。他这个过去的经理，去做个酒吧侍者？！

　　在旅馆的门厅里，越坐越觉得乏味透顶，于是他４点钟就回家了。他进门时，努力摆出个办正事的样子，但是装得不像。

　　餐室里的摇椅很是舒适。他拿着几份买来的报纸，高兴地在摇椅里坐下，开始看报。

　　当嘉莉穿过餐室去做晚饭时，她说：

　　鈥溄裉焓辗孔獾娜死垂�了。鈥�

　　鈥溑叮�是吗？鈥澓账逛姿怠�

　　他记起今天是２月２号，收房租的人总是这个时候来，于是稍稍皱起了眉头。他伸手到衣袋里摸钱包，第一次尝到了只出不进的滋味。他看着那一大卷绿钞票，活像一个病人看着一种能治好病的药。然后，他数出来２８块钱。

　　鈥湼�你，鈥澋奔卫蛟俅巫吖�时，他对她说。

　　他又埋头看起报来。啊，还可以享受一下别的事情--不用跑路、不用烦神。这些潮水般的电讯消息多像能令人忘却一切的忘川之水啊！他有些忘记自己的烦恼了。有一个年轻漂亮的女人，要是你相信报纸上的描述的话，控告她那在布鲁克林的富有、肥胖的糖果商丈夫，要求离婚。另一则消息详细地报道了斯塔腾岛的普林斯湾外一只船在冰雪中失事的经过。

　　有一个长而醒目的栏目，记载着戏剧界的活动--上演的剧目，登台的演员，戏院经理的布告。范尼路达文波特正在第五大道演出。戴利在上演《李尔王》。他看到消息说，范德比尔特一家和他们的朋友一行，早早就去了佛罗里达州度假。在肯塔基州山区发生了有趣的枪战。他就这样看呀，看呀，看呀，在温暖的房间里，坐在取暖炉边上的摇椅里摇晃着，等着开晚饭。