The Essential Writings of Theodore Dreiser. Theodore Dreiser
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Название: The Essential Writings of Theodore Dreiser
Автор: Theodore Dreiser
Издательство: Bookwire
Жанр: Языкознание
isbn: 9788027243297
isbn:
“Poor fellow,” read Carrie, consulting the text and drawing her voice out pathetically. “Martin, be sure and give him a glass of wine before he goes.”
She was surprised at the briefness of the entire part, not knowing that she must be on the stage while others were talking, and not only be there, but also keep herself in harmony with the dramatic movement of the scenes.
“I think I can do that, though,” she concluded.
When Drouet came the next night, she was very much satisfied with her day’s study.
“Well, how goes it, Caddie?” he said.
“All right,” she laughed. “I think I have it memorised nearly.”
“That’s good,” he said. “Let’s hear some of it.”
“Oh, I don’t know whether I can get up and say it off here,” she said bashfully.
“Well, I don’t know why you shouldn’t. It’ll be easier here than it will there.”
“I don’t know about that,” she answered. Eventually she took off the ballroom episode with considerable feeling, forgetting, as she got deeper in the scene, all about Drouet, and letting herself rise to a fine state of feeling.
“Good,” said Drouet; “fine, out o’ sight! You’re all right Caddie, I tell you.”
He was really moved by her excellent representation and the general appearance of the pathetic little figure as it swayed and finally fainted to the floor. He had bounded up to catch her, and now held her laughing in his arms.
“Ain’t you afraid you’ll hurt yourself?” he asked.
“Not a bit.”
“Well, you’re a wonder. Say, I never knew you could do anything like that.”
“I never did, either,” said Carrie merrily, her face flushed with delight.
“Well, you can bet that you’re all right,” said Drouet. “You can take my word for that. You won’t fail.”
Chapter XVII
A Glimpse Through the Gateway — Hope Lightens the Eye
The, to Carrie, very important theatrical performance was to take place at the Avery on conditions which were to make it more noteworthy than was at first anticipated. The little dramatic student had written to Hurstwood the very morning her part was brought her that she was going to take part in a play.
“I really am,” she wrote, feeling that he might take it as a jest; “I have my part now, honest, truly.”
Hurstwood smiled in an indulgent way as he read this.
“I wonder what it is going to be? I must see that.”
He answered at once, making a pleasant reference to her ability. “I haven’t the slightest doubt you will make a success. You must come to the park tomorrow morning and tell me all about it.”
Carrie gladly complied, and revealed all the details of the undertaking as she understood it.
“Well,” he said, “that’s fine. I’m glad to hear it. Of course, you will do well, you’re so clever.”
He had truly never seen so much spirit in the girl before. Her tendency to discover a touch of sadness had for the nonce disappeared. As she spoke her eyes were bright, her cheeks red. She radiated much of the pleasure which her undertakings gave her. For all her misgivings — and they were as plentiful as the moments of the day — she was still happy. She could not repress her delight in doing this little thing which, to an ordinary observer, had no importance at all.
Hurstwood was charmed by the development of the fact that the girl had capabilities. There is nothing so inspiring in life as the sight of a legitimate ambition, no matter how incipient. It gives colour, force, and beauty to the possessor.
Carrie was now lightened by a touch of this divine afflatus. She drew to herself commendation from her two admirers which she had not earned. Their affection for her naturally heightened their perception of what she was trying to do and their approval of what she did. Her inexperience conserved her own exuberant fancy, which ran riot with every straw of opportunity, making of it a golden divining rod whereby the treasure of life was to be discovered.
“Let’s see,” said Hurstwood, “I ought to know some of the boys in the lodge. I’m an Elk myself.”
“Oh, you mustn’t let him know I told you.”
“That’s so,” said the manager.
“I’d like for you to be there, if you want to come, but I don’t see how you can unless he asks you.”
“I’ll be there,” said Hurstwood affectionately. “I can fix it so he won’t know you told me. You leave it to me.”
This interest of the manager was a large thing in itself for the performance, for his standing among the Elks was something worth talking about. Already he was thinking of a box with some friends, and flowers for Carrie. He would make it a dress-suit affair and give the little girl a chance.
Within a day or two, Drouet dropped into the Adams Street resort, and he was at once spied by Hurstwood. It was at five in the afternoon and the place was crowded with merchants, actors, managers, politicians, a goodly company of rotund, rosy figures, silk-hatted, starchy-bosomed, beringed and bescarfpinned to the queen’s taste. John L. Sullivan, the pugilist, was at one end of the glittering bar, surrounded by a company of loudly dressed sports, who were holding a most animated conversation. Drouet came across the floor with a festive stride, a new pair of tan shoes squeaking audibly at his progress.
“Well, sir,” said Hurstwood, “I was wondering what had become of you. I thought you had gone out of town again.”
Drouet laughed.
“If you don’t report more regularly we’ll have to cut you off the list.”
“Couldn’t help it,” said the drummer, “I’ve been busy.”
They strolled over toward the bar amid the noisy, shifting company of notables. The dressy manager was shaken by the hand three times in as many minutes.
“I hear your lodge is going to give a performance,” observed Hurstwood, in the most offhand manner.
“Yes, who told you?”
“No one,” said Hurstwood. “They just sent me a couple of tickets, which I can have for two dollars. Is it going to be any good?”
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