when Lorraine and Duncan's drunken interruption changes her decision, Charlie is haunted by Helen's memory, reminding him of being one of the heartless "men who locked their wives out in the snow."

While both Marion and Charlie himself seem to accept Charlie's guilt as a given, Fitzgerald leaves the question of his true culpability open-ended. How responsible was he really? After a night of drinking and arguing, Charlie and Helen create a scene at a Paris nightclub. Charlie tries to take Helen home, but she kisses another man in front of him and his friends, then makes a personal remark that publicly humiliates Charlie. Furious and possibly suspecting Helen plans to spend the night with "young Webb," he heads home, locks the apartment door behind him, and goes to bed. Helen returns an hour later during a heavy snowstorm, but unable to enter or find a cab, she trudges through the snow in her slippers to her sister's apartment. She arrives at Marion's "soaked to the skin and shivering," managing to avoid pneumonia but later succumbing to "heart trouble." When Charlie later reminds Marion that Helen did not die from pneumonia caused by the snowstorm but from heart trouble, Marion repeats the term heart trouble "as if [it] had another meaning for her." This "other meaning" suggests that Marion believes Helen died of a "broken heart." However, Helen's willingness to kiss another man and publicly embarrass her husband indicates that on that "terrible night," it may have been Charlie who suffered the greatest emotional harm.

The complexity of Charlie's guilt in "Babylon Revisited" is deepened by Fitzgerald's exploration of themes like money, wealth, and envy. Charlie is not only burdened by guilt over his wife's death, his struggles with alcoholism, and losing custody of his daughter, but he also feels remorse for his financial success during the prosperous years before the stock market crash. In "Babylon Revisited," money is portrayed, as one critic describes, as a "corrosive power." While nearly everyone in the story is obsessed with it, Charlie alone recognizes that money is insignificant when it comes to matters of the heart.

The narrative starts with Charlie sitting in the bar at the Ritz Hotel, a symbol of opulence in Paris. Despite discovering that nearly everyone he asks about is either ill or financially ruined—even his old friend Lorraine confesses, "We're poor as hell"—Charlie has managed to recover from his financial setbacks and is now prospering in Prague: "My income last year was bigger than it was when I had money." Although he fondly recalls the pre-crash days when affluent Americans abroad "were a sort of royalty, almost infallible," he now feels more guilt than nostalgia for those times of "wildly squandered" wealth. As he walks past a Paris restaurant, he reflects that "he had never eaten at a really cheap restaurant in Paris. Five-course dinner, four francs fifty, eighteen cents, wine included. For some odd reason he wished that he had." Later, when a woman approaches him in a brasserie, Charlie guiltily buys her a meal and discreetly gives her a twenty-franc note. The following day, when Honoria asks him, "we're not rich anymore, are we?" he evasively responds, "We never were," but then offers to buy her "anything you want."

Charlie's profound guilt about money becomes evident when he confides in the Peterses, admitting that his problems began "until I gave up business and came over here with nothing to do.... I worked hard for ten years, you know—until I got lucky in the market, like so many people. Terribly lucky. It didn't seem any use working anymore, so I quit. It won't happen again." Charlie now perceives the wealth he amassed during the 1920s boom as undeserved because it stemmed from the stock market rather than genuine effort. He links his remorse over Helen's death to his regret for leaving his job and living off stock market gains. Although he has learned from past mistakes and rebuilt his fortune through diligent work in Prague, the Peterses do not share Charlie's belief in moral renewal through traditional labor. After he mentions that his success in Prague will enable him to offer Honoria "certain advantages," including a French governess and a new apartment, Marion responds: "I suppose you can give her more luxuries than we can. When you were throwing away money, we were living along watching every ten francs." To Marion, Charlie's responsibility for Helen's death is inseparable from his financial success, suggesting he should feel guilty for both.

Even Lincoln Peters—who explicitly clears Charlie of blame for Helen's death—appears to resent Charlie's financial prosperity: "While you and Helen were tearing around Europe throwing money away, we were just getting along.... there was some kind of injustice in it—you not even working toward the end, and getting richer and richer." Charlie recognizes that Lincoln "couldn't be expected to accept with equanimity the fact that his income was again twice as large as their own."

When Marion changes her mind about allowing Charlie to take Honoria back to Prague, Charlie finds himself alone at the Ritz with only his wealth as company. Instinctively, he decides to "send Honoria some things; he would send her a lot of things." However, his emotional journey has taught him that "this was just money" and "nothing was much good" except being reunited with Honoria. For the Peterses, who never experienced the prosperity of the pre-crash boom years, the guilt Charlie should feel for his past alcoholism and Helen's death is intertwined with the guilt he should feel for his financial success.

Set against the glittering backdrop of Paris in the 1920s, a city teeming with excess and opportunity, the narrative of Charlie Wales explores the profound realization of how transient and relative wealth can truly be. Inspired by F. Scott Fitzgerald's own experiences of indulgence and excess in the French capital, the story delves deep into the consequences of a life spent in reckless abandon and the sobering aftermath that follows.

Charlie Wales, once ensnared by the intoxicating allure of rapid gains and lavish lifestyles during the stock market boom, finds himself in a complex journey of self-reflection. His past, marked by dissipation—a term he comes to understand as the art of reducing something to nothing—casts a long shadow over his present. In the vibrant yet isolating atmosphere of Paris, Charlie is confronted by the stark realization that the ephemeral pleasures and wealth he once cherished have cost him dearly.

Despite his continued financial success, now achieved through diligent effort rather than mere luck, Charlie's life is devoid of the deeper, more enduring joys he yearns for. The frenzied nights of entertainment, where money flowed as freely as the champagne, were not without their price. Each squandered dollar was a sort of offering to destiny, a futile attempt to erase memories that, ironically, now haunt him. He is left to grapple with the irrevocable loss of his family: a daughter, Honoria, whose future with him remains uncertain, and a wife whose demise in Vermont permanently severed their bond.

As the story culminates with Charlie sitting alone in a bar, the emptiness surrounding him underscores a poignant truth. Wealth in its most tangible form may have returned, but the intangible treasures of family and love have slipped through his fingers. Thus, he is left contemplating the relativity of wealth—a concept that once seemed so simple, now layered with the complexities of loss and longing.

Charlie’s aspirations to reunite with his daughter, Honoria, and build a future together are continually thwarted by the shadow of his past. In his quest for redemption, Charlie finds himself entangled in a web of memories and decisions that refuse to let him move forward. The sudden and inopportune arrival of Duncan and Lorraine, figures from his former life, serves as a stark reminder of the challenges he faces in trying to escape his history. Their presence not only disrupts his plans but also reinforces the notion that the past can be an inescapable specter, one that casts a long shadow over his attempts to start anew. Each encounter with these remnants of his previous life underscores the struggle of overcoming one's former self, highlighting the persistent and often unfair nature of trying to leave the past behind.

Charlie finds himself alone and frustrated at the story's conclusion; however, he is far from being defeated. This moment of solitude marks a pivotal turn in his understanding of life's true riches. He has come to value character above all else, recognizing it as an "eternally valuable element" that stands unwavering amidst life's trials. This newfound perspective fuels his faith in his reformed self, guiding him away from the destructive habits that once threatened his life. Although disillusioned, Charlie is strengthened by his resolve, convinced that his character's integrity can offer his daughter, Honoria, more than material possessions could ever provide.

Charlie is aware of what he can truly offer his daughter: a stable home, unwavering love, and meaningful values. While currently limited to providing her with tangible things, he understands the fleeting significance of material wealth. His journey underscores a fundamental realization that despite the allure of material comforts, they pale in comparison to the enduring gift of a strong character and the moral compass it provides. Charlie’s transformation is a testament to the power of redemption and the promise of a future built on a foundation of enduring values and genuine love.