the pit-第1节

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　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Pit
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　A　Story　of　Chicago

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　By
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Frank　Norris



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　1903



　　　　　



　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Dedicated　to　My　Brother

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　Charles　Tolman　Norris

　　　　　　In　memory　of　certain　lamentable　tales　of　the
　　　　bound　（dining…room）　table　heroes；　of　the　epic　of
　　　　　the　pewter　platoons；　and　the　romance…cycle　of
　　　　〃Gaston　Le　Fox；〃　which　we　invented；　maintained；
　　　　　　and　found　marvellous　at　a　time　when　we　both
　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　were　boys。




The　PlT



I


At　eight　o'clock　in　the　inner　vestibule　of　the　Auditorium　Theatre　by　the　window　of　the　box　office；　Laura　Dearborn；　her　younger　sister　Page；　and　their　auntAunt　Wess'were　still　waiting　for　the　rest　of　the　theatre…party　to　appear。　　A　great；　slow…moving　press　of　men　and　women　in　evening　dress　filled　the　vestibule　from　one　wall　to　another。　　A　confused　murmur　of　talk　and　the　shuffling　of　many　feet　arose　on　all　sides；　while　from　time　to　time；　when　the　outside　and　inside　doors　of　the　entrance　chanced　to　be　open　simultaneously；　a　sudden　draught　of　air　gushed　in；　damp；　glacial；　and　edged　with　the　penetrating　keenness　of　a　Chicago　evening　at　the　end　of　February。

The　Italian　Grand　Opera　Company　gave　one　of　the　most　popular　pieces　of　its　repertoire　on　that　particular　night；　and　the　Cresslers　had　invited　the　two　sisters　and　their　aunt　to　share　their　box　with　them。　　It　had　been　arranged　that　the　party　should　assemble　in　the　Auditorium　vestibule　at　a　quarter　of　eight；　but　by　now　the　quarter　was　gone　and　the　Cresslers　still　failed　to　arrive。

〃I　don't　see；〃　murmured　Laura　anxiously　for　the　last　time；　〃what　can　be　keeping　them。　　Are　you　sure　Page　that　Mrs。　Cressler　meant　hereinside？〃

She　was　a　tall　young　girl　of　about　twenty…two　or　three；　holding　herself　erect　and　with　fine　dignity。　　Even　beneath　the　opera　cloak　it　was　easy　to　infer　that　her　neck　and　shoulders　were　beautiful。　　Her　almost　extreme　slenderness　was；　however；　her　characteristic；　the　curves　of　her　figure；　the　contour　of　her　shoulders；　the　swell　of　hip　and　breast　were　all　low；　from　head　to　foot　one　could　discover　no　pronounced　salience。　　Yet　there　was　no　trace；　no　suggestion　of　angularity。　　She　was　slender　as　a　willow　shoot　is　slenderand　equally　graceful；　equally　erect。

Next　to　this　charming　tenuity；　perhaps　her　paleness　was　her　most　noticeable　trait。　　But　it　was　not　a　paleness　of　lack　of　colour。　　Laura　Dearborn's　pallour　was　in　itself　a　colour。　　It　was　a　tint　rather　than　a　shade；　like　ivory；　a　warm　white；　blending　into　an　exquisite；　delicate　brownness　towards　the　throat。　　Set　in　the　middle　of　this　paleness　of　brow　and　cheek；　her　deep　brown　eyes　glowed　lambent　and　intense。　　They　were　not　large；　but　in　some　indefinable　way　they　were　important。　It　was　very　natural　to　speak　of　her　eyes；　and　in　speaking　to　her；　her　friends　always　found　that　they　must　look　squarely　into　their　pupils。　　And　all　this　beauty　of　pallid　face　and　brown　eyes　was　crowned　by；　and　sharply　contrasted　with；　the　intense　blackness　of　her　hair；　abundant；　thick；　extremely　heavy；　continually　coruscating　with　sombre；　murky　reflections；　tragic；　in　a　sense　vaguely　portentous；the　coiffure　of　a　heroine　of　romance；　doomed　to　dark　crises。

On　this　occasion　at　the　side　of　the　topmost　coil；　a　white　aigrette　scintillated　and　trembled　with　her　every　movement。　　She　was　unquestionably　beautiful。　　Her　mouth　was　a　little　large；　the　lips　firm　set；　and　one　would　not　have　expected　that　she　would　smile　easily；　in　fact；　the　general　expression　of　her　face　was　rather　serious。

〃Perhaps；〃　continued　Laura；　〃they　would　look　for　us　outside。〃　　But　Page　shook　her　head。　　She　was　five　years　younger　than　Laura；　just　turned　seventeen。　　Her　hair；　dressed　high　for　the　first　time　this　night；　was　brown。　But　Page's　beauty　was　no　less　marked　than　her　sister's。　The　seriousness　of　her　expression；　however；　was　more　noticeable。　　At　times　it　amounted　to　undeniable　gravity。　　She　was　straight；　and　her　figure；　all　immature　as　yet；　exhibited　hardly　any　softer　outlines　than　that　of　a　boy。

〃No；　no；〃　she　said；　in　answer　to　Laura's　question。　〃They　would　come　in　here；　they　wouldn't　wait　outside　not　on　such　a　cold　night　as　this。　　Don't　you　think　so；　Aunt　Wess'？〃

But　Mrs。　Wessels；　a　lean；　middle…aged　little　lady；　with　a　flat；　pointed　nose；　had　no　suggestions　to　offer。　　She　disengaged　herself　from　any　responsibility　in　the　situation　and；　while　waiting；　found　a　vague　amusement　in　counting　the　number　of　people　who　filtered　in　single　file　through　the　wicket　where　the　tickets　were　presented。　　A　great；　stout　gentleman　in　evening　dress；　perspiring；　his　cravatte　limp；　stood　here；　tearing　the　checks　from　the　tickets；　and　without　ceasing；　maintaining　a　continuous　outcry　that　dominated　the　murmur　of　the　throng：

〃Have　your　tickets　ready；　please！　Have　your　tickets　ready。〃

〃Such　a　crowd；〃　murmured　Page。　　〃Did　you　ever　see　and　every　one　you　ever　knew　or　heard　of。　　And　such　toilettes！〃

With　every　instant　the　number　of　people　increased；　progress　became　impossible；　except　an　inch　at　a　time。　The　women　were；　almost　without　exception；　in　light…　coloured　gowns；　white；　pale　blue；　Nile　green；　and　pink；　while　over　these　costumes　were　thrown　opera　cloaks　and　capes　of　astonishing　complexity　and　elaborateness。　Nearly　all　were　bare…headed；　and　nearly　all　wore　aigrettes；　a　score　of　these；　a　hundred　of　them；　nodded　and　vibrated　with　an　incessant　agitation　over　the　heads　of　the　crowd　and　flashed　like　mica　flakes　as　the　wearers　moved。　　Everywhere　the　eye　was　arrested　by　the　luxury　of　stuffs；　the　brilliance　and　delicacy　of　fabrics；　laces　as　white　and　soft　as　froth；　crisp；　shining　silks；　suave　satins；　heavy　gleaming　velvets；　and　brocades　and　plushes；　nearly　all　of　them　white　violently　sodazzling　and　splendid　under　the　blaze　of　the　electrics。　　The　gentlemen；　in　long；　black　overcoats；　and　satin　mufflers；　and　opera　hats；　their　hands　under　the　elbows　of　their　women…folk；　urged　or　guided　them　forward；　distressed；　pre…occupied；　adjuring　their　parties　to　keep　together；　in　their　white…gloved　fingers　they　held　their　tickets　ready。　　For　all　the　icy　blasts　that　burst　occasionally　through　the　storm　doors；　the　vestibule　was　uncomfortably　warm；　and　into　this　steam…heated　atmosphere　a　multitude　of　heavy　odours　exhaledthe　scent　of　crushed　flowers；　of　perfume；　of　sachet；　and　evenoccasionallythe　strong　smell　of　damp　seal…skin。

Outside　it　was　bitterly　cold。　　All　day　a　freezing　wind　had　blown　from　off　the　Lake；　and　since　five　in　the　afternoon　a　fine　powder　of　snow　had　been　falling。　　The　coachmen　on　the　boxes　of　the　carriages　that　succeeded　one　another　in　an　interminable　line　before　the　entrance　of　the　theatre；　were　swathed　to　the　eyes　in　furs。　　The　spume　and　froth　froze　on　the　bits　of　the　horses；　and　the　carriage　wheels　crunching　through　the　dry；　frozen　snow　gave　off　a　shrill　staccato　whine。　　Yet　for　all　this；　a　crowd　had　collected　about　the　awning　on　the　sidewalk；　and　even　upon　the　opposite　side　of　the　street；　peeping　and　peering　from　behind　the　broad　shoulders　of　policemena　crowd　of　miserables；　shivering　in　rags　and　tattered　comforters；　who　found；　nevertheless；　an　unexplainable　satisfaction　in　watching　this　prolonged　defile　of　millionaires。

So　great　was　the　concourse　of　teams；　that　two　blocks　distant　from　the　theatre　they　were　obliged　to　fall　into　line；　advancing　only　at　intervals；　and　from　door　to　door　of　the　carriages　thus　immobilised　ran　a　score　of　young　men；　their　arms　encumbered　with　pamphlets；　shouting：　〃Score　books；　score　books　and　librettos；　score　books　with　photographs　of　all　the　artists。〃

However；　in　the　vestibule　the　press　was　thinning　out。　It　was　understood　that　the　overture　had　begun。　　Other　people　who　were　waiting　like　Laura　and　her　sister　had　been　joined　by　their　friends　and　had　gone　inside。　Laura；　for　whom　this　opera　night　had　been　an　event；　a　thing　desired　and　anticipated　with　all　the　eagerness　of　a　girl　who　had　lived　for　twenty…two　years　in　a　second…　class　town　of　central　Massachusetts；　was　in　great　distress。　　She　had　never　seen　Grand　Opera；　she　would　not　have　missed　a　note；　and　now　she　was　in　a　fair　way　to　lose　the　whole　overture。

〃Oh；　dear；〃　she　cried。　　〃Isn't　it　too　bad。　　I　can't　imagine　why　they　don't　come。〃

Page；　more　metropolitan；　her　keenness　of　appreciation　a　little　lost　by　two　years　of　city　life　and　fashionable　schooling；　tried　to　reassure　her。

〃You　won't　lose　much；〃　she　said。　　〃The　air　of　the　overture　is　repeated　in　the　first　actI've　heard　it　once　before。〃

〃If　we　even　see　the　first　act；〃　mourned　Laura。　She　scanned　the　faces　of　the　late　comers　anxiously。　Nobody　seemed　to　mind　being　late。　　Even　some　of　the　other　people　who　were　waiting；　chatted　calmly　among　themselves。　　Directly　behind　them　two　men；　their　faces　close　together；　elaborated　an　interminable　conversation；　of　which　from　time　to　time　they　could　overhear　a　phrase　or　two。

〃and　I　guess　he'll　do　well　if　he　settles　for　thirty　cents　on　the　dollar。　　I　tell　you；　dear　boy；　it　was　a　_smash！〃_

〃Never　should　have　tried　to　swing　a　corner。　　The　short　interest　was　too　small　and　the　visible　supply　was　too　great。〃

Page　nudged　her　sister　and　whispered：　〃That's　the　Helmick　failure　they're　talking　about；　those　m