 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, visit www.LibriVox.org. The Age of Innocence. A novel by Edith Wharton. Read for LibriVox by Brenda Dain. Chapter 7 Mrs. Henry van der Leuden listened in silence to her cousin Mrs. Archer's narrative. It was all very well to tell yourself in advance that Mrs. van der Leuden was always silent, and that, though noncommittal by nature and training, she was very kind to those people she really liked. Even personal experience of these facts was not always a protection, from the chill that descended on one in the high-ceilinged white-walled Madison Avenue drawing-room, with the pale-brocaded arm-chairs so obviously uncovered for the occasion, and the gauze still veiling the ormaloo mantel ornaments, and the beautiful old carved frame of Gainsborough's Lady Angelica Dulac. Mrs. van der Leuden's portrait by Huntington, in black velvet and Venetian point, faced that of her lovely ancestors. It was generally considered as fine as a cabanel, and though twenty years had elapsed since its execution, was still a perfect likeness. Indeed, the Mrs. van der Leuden who sat beneath it, listening to Mrs. Archer, might have been the twin sister of the fair and still youngish woman, drooping against a gilt arm-chair before a green-rep curtain. Mrs. van der Leuden still wore black velvet and Venetian point, when she went into society, or rather, since she never dined out, when she threw open her own doors to receive it. Her fair hair, which had faded without turning grey, was still parted in flat, overlapping points on her forehead, and the straight nose that divided her pale blue eyes was only a little more pinched about the nostrils than when the portrait had been painted. She always indeed struck Newland Archer, as having been rather gruesomely preserved, in the airless atmosphere of a perfectly irreproachable existence, as bodies caught in glaciers, keep for years a rosy life in death. Like all his family, he esteemed and admired Mrs. van der Leuden, but he found her gentle bending sweetness less approachable than the grimness of some of his mother's old aunts, fierce spinsters who said no on principle before they knew what they were going to be asked. Mrs. van der Leuden's attitude said neither yes nor no, but always appeared to incline to clemency, till her thin lips, wavering into the shadow of a smile, made the almost invariable reply, I shall first have to talk this over with my husband. She and Mr. van der Leuden were so exactly alike that Archer often wondered how, after forty years of the closest conjugality, two such merged identities ever separated themselves enough for anything as controversial as a talking-over. But as neither had ever reached a decision without prefacing it by this mysterious conclave, Mrs. Archer and her son, having set forth their case, waited resignedly for the familiar phrase. Mrs. van der Leuden, however, who had seldom surprised anyone, now surprised them by reaching her long hand towards the bell-rope. I think, she said, I should like Henry to hear what you have told me. A footman appeared, to whom she gravely added, if Mr. van der Leuden has finished reading the newspaper, please ask him to be kind enough to come. She said, reading the newspaper, in a tone in which a minister's wife might have said, presiding at a cabinet meeting. Not from any arrogance of mind, but because the habit of a lifetime, and the attitude of her friends and relations, had led her to consider Mr. van der Leuden's least gesture, as having an almost sacerdotal importance. Her promptness of action showed that she considered the case as pressing as Mrs. Archer. But lest she should be thought to have committed herself in advance, she added, with the sweetest look. Henry always enjoys seeing you, dear Adeline, and he will wish to congratulate Newland. The double doors had solemnly reopened, and between them appeared Mr. Henry van der Leuden, tall, spare, and frock-coated, with faded, fair hair, a straight nose like his wife's, and the same look of frozen gentleness in eyes that were merely pale gray, instead of pale blue. Mr. van der Leuden greeted Mrs. Archer with cousinly affability, preferred to Newland low-voiced congratulations, couched in the same language as his wife's, and seated himself in one of the brocade arm-chairs with a simplicity of a reigning sovereign. I had just finished reading The Times, he said, laying his long fingertips together. In town my mornings are so much occupied that I find it more convenient to read the newspapers after luncheon. Oh, there's a great deal to be said for that plan, indeed, I think my Uncle Edgmont used to say he found it less agitating not to read the morning papers till after dinner, said Mrs. Archer responsively. Yes, my good father abhorred hurry, but now we live in a constant rush, said Mr. van der Leuden in measured tones, looking with pleasant deliberation about the large, shrouded room which to Archer was so complete an image of its owners. But I hope you had finished reading, Henry, his wife interposed, quite, quite, he reassured her. Then I should like Adeline to tell you, oh, it's really Newland's story, said his mother smiling, and proceeded to rehearse once more the monstrous tale of the affront inflicted on Mrs. Lovell Minkett. Of course, she ended, Augusta Welland and Mary Minkett both felt that, especially in view of Newland's engagement, you and Henry ought to know. Ah, said Mr. van der Leuden, drawing a deep breath. There was a silence, during which the tick of the monumental ormaloo clock on the white marble mantelpiece grew as loud as the boom of a minute-gun. Archer contemplated with awe the two slender-fated figures, seated side by side, in a kind of vise-recal rigidity, mouthpieces of some remote ancestral authority, which fate compelled them to wield when they would so much rather have lived in simplicity and seclusion, digging invisible weeds out of the perfect lawns of Scoitre Cliff, and playing patience together in the evenings. Mr. van der Leuden was the first to speak. You really think this is due to some, some intentional interference of Laurence Leffert's? He inquired, turning to Archer. I'm certain of it, sir. Henry has been going at it rather harder than usual lately, if Cousin Louisa won't mind my mentioning it, having a rather stiff affair with the postmaster's wife in their village or some one of that sort. And whenever poor Gertrude Leffert's begins to suspect anything, and he's afraid of trouble, he gets up a fuss of this kind to show how awfully moral he is and talks at the top of his voice about the impertence of inviting his wife to meet people he doesn't wish her to know. He's simply using Madame Olenska as a lightning rod. I've seen him try the same thing often before. The Leffert's sees, said Mrs. van der Leuden. The Leffert's sees! echoed Mrs. Archer. What would Uncle Edgmont have said of Laurence Leffert's pronouncing on anybody's social position? It shows what society has come to. Well, we'll hope it is not quite come to that, said Mr. van der Leuden firmly. Ah, if only you and Louisa went out more! sighed Mrs. Archer. But instantly she became aware of her mistake. The van der Leuden's were morbidly sensitive to any criticism of their secluded existence. They were the arbiters of fashion, the court of last appeal, and they knew it, and bowed to their fate. But being shy and retiring persons with no natural inclination for their part, they lived as much as possible in the sylvan solitude of Scoitre Cliff, and when they came to town declined all invitations on the plea of Mrs. van der Leuden's health. Newlyn Archer came to his mother's rescue. Everybody in New York knows what you and cousin Louisa represent. That's why Mrs. Mingott felt she ought not to allow this slight on Countess Olenska to pass without consulting you. Mrs. van der Leuden glanced at her husband, who glanced back at her. It is the principle that I dislike, said Mr. van der Leuden. As long as a member of a well-known family is backed up by that family it should be considered final. It seems so to me, said his wife, as if she were producing a new thought. I had no idea, Mr. van der Leuden continued, that things had come to such a pass. He paused and looked at his wife again. It occurs to me, my dear, that the Countess Olenska is already a sort of relation, through Medora Manson's first husband, at any rate she will be when Newlyn marries. He turned towards the young man. Have you read this morning's Times, Newlyn? Why, yes, sir, said Archer, who usually tossed off half a dozen papers with his morning coffee, husband and wife looked at each other again. Their pale eyes clung together in prolonged and serious consultation. Then a faint smile fluttered over Mrs. van der Leuden's face. She had evidently guessed and approved. Mr. van der Leuden turned to Mrs. Archer. If Louise's health allowed her to dine out, I wish you would say to Mrs. Labelmingit, she and I would have been happy to fill the places of a Laurence Lefferty's at her dinner. He paused to let the irony of this sink in. As you know this is impossible, Mrs. Archer sounded a sympathetic ascent. But Newlyn tells me he has read this morning's Times, therefore he has probably seen that Louise's relative, the Duke of St. Austrie, arrives next week on the Russia. He is coming in to enter his new sloop, the Guinevere, in next summer's international cup-race, and also to have a little canvas-back shooting at Trevenna. Mr. van der Leuden paused again and continued with increasing benevolence. Before taking him down to Maryland, we are inviting a few friends to meet him here only a little dinner, with a reception afterwards. I am sure Louise will be as glad as I am if Countess Olenska will let us include her among our guests. He got up, bent his long body with a stiff friendliness towards his cousin and added, I think I have Louise's authority for saying that she will herself leave the invitation to dine when she drives out presently. With our cards, of course, with our cards. Mrs. Archer, who knew this to be a hint but the seventeen-hand chestnuts, which were never kept waiting, were at the door, rose with a hurried murmur of thanks. Mrs. van der Leuden beamed on her, but her husband raised a protesting hand, there is nothing to thank me for, dear Adeline, nothing at all. This kind of thing must not happen in New York, it shall not, as long as I can help it. He pronounced with sovereign gentleness as he steered his cousins to the door. Two hours later, everyone knew that the great sea-spring barouche in which Mrs. van der Leuden took the air at all seasons had been seen at old Mrs. Minkett's door, where a large square envelope was handed in. And that evening, at the opera, Mr. Sillerton Jackson was able to state that the envelope contained a card inviting the Countess Olenska to the dinner which the van der Leuden's were giving the following week for their cousin, the Duke of St. Austria. Some of the younger men in the club-box exchanged a smile at this announcement, and glanced sideways at Laurence Lefferts, who sat carelessly in the front of the box, pulling his long, fair moustache, and who remarked with authority as the soprano paused, No one but Patti ought to attempt the somnambula. It was generally agreed in New York that the Countess Olenska had lost her looks. She had appeared there first in Newland Archer's boyhood as a brilliantly pretty little girl of nine or ten, of whom people said that she ought to be painted. Her parents had been continental wanderers, and after a roaming babyhood she had lost them both and then taken in charge by her aunt, Madora Manson, also a wanderer who was herself returning to New York to settle down. Poor Madora, repeatedly widowed, was always coming home to settle down, each time in a less expensive house, and bringing with her a new husband or an adopted child. But after a few months she invariably parted from her husband or quarreled with her ward and, having got rid of her house at a loss, sat out again on her wanderings. As her mother had been a rushworth, and her last unhappy marriage had linked her to one of the crazy chiverses, New York looked indulgently on her eccentricities. But when she returned with her little orphaned niece, whose parents had been popular in spite of their regrettable taste for travel, people thought it a pity that the pretty child should be in such hands. Everyone was disposed to be kind to little Ellen Mingott, though her dusky red cheek and tight curls gave her an air of gaiety that seemed unsuitable in a child who should still have been in black for her parents. It was one of the misguided Madora's many peculiarities, to flout the unalterable rules that regulated American mourning. And when she stepped from the steamer, her family were scandalized to see that the crepe veil she wore for her own brother was seven inches shorter than those of her sisters-in-law, while little Ellen was in crimson merino and amber beads, like a gypsy foundling. But New York had so long resigned itself to Madora that only a few old ladies shook their heads over Ellen's gaudy clothes, while her other relations fell under the charm of her high color and high spirits. She was a fearless and familiar little thing who asked disconcerting questions, made precocious comments, and possessed outlandish arts, such as dancing a Spanish shawl dance, and singing Neapolitan love songs to a guitar. Under the direction of her aunt, whose real name was Mrs. Thorley Chivers, but who having received a papal title had resumed her first husband's patronomic, and called herself the Marchioness Manson, because in Italy she could turn it into Manzoni. The little girl received an expensive, but incoherent education, which included drawing from the model, a thing never dreamed of before, and playing the piano in quintets with professional musicians. Of course no good could come of this, and when a few years later poor Chivers finally died in a madhouse, his widow, draped in strange weeds, again pulled up stakes and departed with Ellen, who had grown into a tall, bony girl with conspicuous eyes. For some time no more was heard of them. Then news came of Ellen's marriage to an immensely rich Polish nobleman of legendary fame, whom she had met at a ball of the Tuileries, and who was said to have princely establishments in Paris, Nice and Florence, a yacht at Coe's and many square miles of shooting in Transylvania. She disappeared in a kind of sulfurous apotheosis, and when a few years later Madora again came back to New York, subdued, impoverished, mourning a third husband, and in quest of a still smaller house, people wondered that her rich niece had not been able to do something for her. Then came the news that Ellen's own marriage had ended in disaster, and that she was herself returning home to seek rest and oblivion among her kinfolk. These things passed through Newland Archer's mind a week later, as he watched Vakanda Solenska enter the vandaloiden drawing-room on the evening of the momentous dinner. The occasion was a solemn one, and he wondered a little nervously how she would carry it off. She came rather late, one hand still ungloved and fastening a bracelet about her wrist, yet she entered without any appearance of haste or embarrassment, the drawing-room in which New York's most chosen company was somewhat awfully assembled. In the middle of the room she paused, looking about her with a grave-mouth and smiling eyes, and in that instant Newland Archer rejected the general verdict on her looks. It was true that her early radiance was gone. The red cheeks had paled, she was thin, worn, a little older-looking than her age which must have been nearly thirty. But there was about her the mysterious authority of beauty, assurance in the carriage of the head, the movement of the eyes which, without being in the least theatrical, struck him as highly trained and full of conscious power. At the same time she was simpler in manner than most of the ladies present, and many people, as he heard afterwards from Janie, were disappointed that her appearance was not more stylish, for stylishness was what New York most valued. It was perhaps Archer reflected because her early vivacity had disappeared because she was so quiet, quiet in her movements and the tones of her low-pitched voice. New York had expected something a good deal more resonant in a young woman with such a history. The dinner was a somewhat formidable business. Dining with the Vanderleudans was at best no light matter, and dining there with a duke, who was their cousin, was almost a religious solemnity. It pleased Archer to think that only an old New Yorker could perceive the shade of difference to New York between being merely a duke and being the Vanderleudans duke. New York took stray noblemen calmly, and even, except in the Struthers set, with a certain distrustful Hocher. But when they presented such credentials as these they were received with an old-fashioned cordiality, that they would have been greatly mistaken in ascribing solely to their standing in Tibet. It was for just such distinctions that the young man cherished his old New York, even while he smiled at it. The Vanderleudans had done their best to emphasise the importance of the occasion. The Dulak Zevres and the Trevenna George II plate were out. So was the Vanderleudan Lohstoff from the East India Company and the Dagonet Crown Derby. Mrs. Vanderleudan looked more than ever like a cabanel. And Mrs. Archer, in her grandmother's seed pearls and emeralds, reminded her son of an Izebe miniature. All the ladies had on their handsomest jewels, but it was characteristic of the house and the occasion that these were mostly in rather heavy, old-fashioned settings. And old Miss Lanning, who had been persuaded to come, actually wore her mother's cameos and a Spanish blonde shawl. The Countess Olenska was the only young woman at the dinner. Yet as Archer scanned the smooth, plump, elderly faces between their diamond necklaces and towering ostrich feathers, they struck him as curiously immature compared with hers. It frightened him to think what must have gone to the making of her eyes. The Duke of St. Austrie, who sat at his hostess's right, was naturally the chief figure of the evening. But if the Countess Olenska was less conspicuous than had been hoped, the Duke was almost invisible. Being a well-bred man, he had not, like another recent ducal visitor, come to the dinner in a shooting jacket. But his evening clothes were so shabby and baggy, and he wore them with such an air of their being home-spun that, with his stooping way of sitting and his vast beard spreading over his shirt front, he hardly gave the appearance of being in dinner attire. He was short, round-shouldered, sunburnt, with a thick nose, small eyes, and a sociable smile. But he seldom spoke, and when he did it was in such low tones that, despite the frequent silences of expectation about the table, his remarks were lost to all but his neighbors. When the men joined the ladies after dinner, the Duke went straight up to the Countess Olenska and they sat down in a corner and plunged into an animated talk. Neither seemed aware that the Duke should first have paid respects to Mrs. Lovell Mingid and Mrs. Headley Chivers, and the Countess have conversed with that amiable hypochondriac Mr. Urban Dagonette of Washington Square, who, in order to have the pleasure of meeting her, had broken through his fixed rule of not dining out between January and April. The two chatted together for nearly twenty minutes. Then the Countess rose and, walking alone, across the wide drawing-room, sat down at Newland Archer's side. It was not the custom in New York drawing-rooms for a lady to get up and walk away from one gentleman in order to seek the company of another. Etiquette required that she should wait, immovable as an idol, while the men who wished to converse with her succeeded each other at her side. But the Countess was apparently unaware of having broken any rule. She sat at perfect ease in a corner of the sofa beside Archer and looked at him with the kindest eyes. I want you to talk to me about May, she said. Instead of answering her, he asked, You knew the Duke before? Oh yes, we used to see him every winter at Nice. He's very fond of gambling. He used to come to the house a great deal. She said it in the simplest manner, as if she had said, He's fond of wildflowers. And after a moment she added candidly, I think he's the dullest man I ever met. This pleased her companion so much that he forgot the slight shock her previous remark had caused him. It was undeniably exciting to meet a lady who found the van der Leuiden's Duke dull and dared to utter the opinion. He longed to question her to hear more about the life of which her careless words had given him so illuminating a glimpse. But he feared to touch on distressing memories and before he could think of anything to say, she had straight back to her original subject. May is a darling. I've seen no young girl in New York so handsome and so intelligent. Are you very much in love with her? Newland Archer reddened and laughed as much as a man can be. She continued to consider him thoughtfully, as if not to miss any shade of meaning in what he said. Do you think then there is a limit to being in love? If there is, I haven't found it. She glowed with sympathy. Oh, it's really and truly a romance. The most romantic of romances. How delightful! And you found it all out for yourselves. It was not in the least arranged for you? Archer looked at her incredulously. Have you forgotten, he asked with a smile, that in our country we don't allow our marriages to be arranged for us? A dusky blush rose to her cheek and he instantly regretted his words. Yes, she answered, I'd forgotten. You must forgive me if I sometimes make these mistakes. I don't always remember that everything here is good that was bad where I've come from. She looked down at her Viennese fan of eagle feathers and he saw that her lips trembled. I'm so sorry, he said impulsively, but you are among friends here, you know. Yes, I know. Wherever I go I have that feeling. That's why I came home. I want to forget everything else to become a complete American again, like the Mingids and Wellens and you and your delightful mother and all the other good people here tonight. Ah, here's May arriving and you will want to hurry away to her, she added, but without moving and her eyes turned back from the door to rest on the young man's face. The drawing rooms were beginning to fill up with after-dinner guests and, following Madame Olenskas' glance, Archer saw May Welland entering with her mother. In her dress of white and silver with a wreath of silver blossoms in her hair, the tall girl looked like a Diana, just a lighting from the chase. Oh, said Archer, I have so many rivals you see she's already surrounded and there's the Duke being introduced. Then stay with me a little longer, Madame Olenskas said in a low tone, just touching his knee with her plumed fan. It was the lightest touch, but it thrilled him, like a caress. Yes, let me stay, he answered in the same tone, hardly knowing what he said, but just then Mr. van der Leuden came up followed by old Mr. Urban Dagonette. The Countess greeted them with her grave smile and Archer, feeling his host's admonitory glance on him, rose and surrendered his seat. Madame Olenskas held out her hand as if to bid him good-bye. Tomorrow then, after five I shall expect you, she said, and then turned back to make room for Mr. Dagonette. Tomorrow Archer heard himself repeating, though there had been no engagement and during their talk she had given him no hint that she wished to see him again. As he moved away he saw Lawrence Lefferts, tall and resplendent, leading his wife up to be introduced and heard Gertrude Lefferts say as she beamed on the Countess with her large, unperceiving smile. But I think we used to go to dancing school together when we were children. Behind her, waiting their turn to name themselves to the Countess, Archer noticed a number of the recalcitrant couples who had declined to meet her at Mrs. Lovell-Mingott's. As Mrs. Archer remarked, when the van der Leuden's chose, they knew how to give a lesson. The wonder was that they chose so seldom. The young man fell to touch on his arm and saw Mrs. van der Leuden looking down on him from the pure eminence of black velvet and the family diamonds. It was good of you, dear Newland, to devote yourself so unselfishly to Madame Olenska. I told your cousin Henry he must really come to the rescue. He was aware of smiling at her vaguely, and she added, as if condescending to his natural shyness, I've never seen May looking lovelier. The Duke thinks her the handsomest girl in the room. The Age of Innocence A novel by Edith Wharton Read for LibriVox by Brenda Dane Chapter 9 The Countess Olenska had said, after five. And at half after the hour Newland Archer rang the bell of the peeling stucco house with a giant wisteria throttling its feeble cast-iron balcony which she had hired far down West 23rd Street from the vagabond Medora. It was certainly a strange quarter to have settled in. Small dressmakers, bird stuffers and people who wrote were her nearest neighbors and farther down the disheveled street Archer recognized a dilapidated wooden house at the end of a paved path in which a writer and journalist called Winsett whom he used to come across now and then had mentioned that he lived. Winsett did not invite people to his house but he had once pointed it out to Archer in the course of a nocturnal stroll. Amalatter had asked himself with a little shiver if the humanities were so meanly housed in other capitals. Madame Olenska's own dwelling was redeemed from the same appearance only by a little more paint about the window frames. And as Archer mustered its modest front he said to himself that the Polish Count must have robbed her of her fortune as well as of her illusions. The young man had spent an unsatisfactory day. He had lunched with the Wellens hoping afterward to carry off May for a walk in the park. He wanted to have her to himself to tell her how enchanting she had looked the night before and how proud he was of her and to press her to hasten their marriage. But Mrs. Welland had firmly reminded him that the round of family visits was not half over and when he hinted at advancing the date of the wedding had raised reproachful eyebrows and sighed out twelve dozen of everything hand embroidered. Packed in the family landow they rolled from one tribal doorstep to another and Archer, when the afternoon's round was over, parted from his betrothed with the feeling that he had been shown off like a wild animal, cunningly trapped. He supposed that his readings in anthropology caused him to take such a coarse view of what was, after all, a simple and natural demonstration of family feeling. But when he remembered that the Wellens did not expect the wedding to take place till the following autumn and pictured what his life would be until then, a dampness fell upon his spirit. Tomorrow Mrs. Welland called after him, we'll do the chiverses and the dialysis. And he perceived that she was going through their two families alphabetically and that they were only in the first quarter of the alphabet. He wanted to tell May of the Countess Olenska's request, her command, rather, that he should call on her that afternoon, but in the brief moments when they were alone he had had more pressing things to say. Besides, it struck him as a little absurd to allude to the matter. He knew that May most particularly wanted him to be kind to her cousin. Was it not that wish which had hastened the announcement of their engagement? It gave him an odd sensation to reflect that, but for the Countess's arrival he might have been, if not still a free man, at least a man less irrevocably pledged. But May had willed it so, and he felt himself somehow relieved of further responsibility and therefore at liberty, if he chose, to call on her cousin without telling her. As he stood on Madame Olenska's threshold, curiosity was his uppermost feeling. He was puzzled by the tone in which she had summoned him. He concluded that she was less simple than she seemed. The door was opened by a swarthy, foreign-looking maid with a prominent bosom under a gay-neckerchief whom he vaguely fancied to be Sicilian. She welcomed him with all her white teeth and answering his inquiries by a head-shake of incomprehension led him through the narrow hall into a low-firelit drawing-room. The room was empty and she left him for an appreciable time to wonder whether he had gone to find her mistress or whether she had not understood what he was there for and thought it might be to wind the clocks, of which he perceived that the only visible specimen had stopped. He knew that the southern races communicated with each other in the language of pantomime and was mortified to find her shrugs and smiles so unintelligible. At length she returned with a lamp and Archer having meanwhile put together a phrase out of Dante and Petrarch evoked the answer which he took to mean she's out, but you'll soon see. What he saw, meanwhile, with the help of the lamp was the faded, shadowy charm of a room unlike any room he had known. He knew that the Countess Olenska had brought some of her possessions with her. Bits of wreckage she called them and these, he supposed, were represented by some small, slender tables of dark wood, a delicate little Greek bronze on the chimney-piece. And a stretch of red damask nailed to the discolored wallpaper behind a couple of Italian-looking pictures in old frames. Newland Archer prided himself on his knowledge of Italian art. His boyhood had been saturated with Ruskin and he had read all the latest books. John Addington Simmons, Vernon Lee's Euphoria, the essays of P. G. Hammerton and a wonderful new volume called The Renaissance by Walter Pater. He talked easily of Botticelli and spoke of Father Angelica with a faint condescension. But these pictures bewildered him for they were like nothing that he was accustomed to look at and, therefore, able to see when he travelled in Italy. And perhaps also his powers of observation were impaired by the oddness of finding himself in this strange empty house where apparently no one expected him. He was sorry that he had not told Maywell and of Countess Olenska's request and a little disturbed by the thought that his betrothed might come in to see her cousin. What would she think if she found him sitting there with the air of intimacy implied by waiting alone in the dusk at a lady's fireside? But since he had come, he meant to wait. And he sank into a chair and stretched his feet to the logs. It was odd to have summoned him in that way and then forgotten him, but Archer felt more curious than mortified. The atmosphere of the room was so different from any he had ever breathed that self-consciousness vanished in the sense of adventure. He had been before in drawing rooms hung with Red Damask, with pictures of the Italian school, what struck him was the way in which Medora Manson's shabby-hired house with its blighted background of pompous grass and Roger's statuettes had, by a turn of the hand, and the skillful use of a few properties then transformed into something intimate, foreign, subtly suggestive of old romantic scenes and sentiments. He tried to analyze the trick, to find a clue to it in the way the chairs and tables were grouped, in the fact that only two Giacmino roses, of which nobody ever bought less than a dozen, had been placed in the slender vase at his elbow, and in the vague, pervading perfume that was not what one put on handkerchiefs, but rather like the scent of some far-off bazaar, a smell made up of Turkish coffee and ambergris and dried roses. His mind wandered away to the question of what May's drawing room would look like. He knew that Mr. Welland, who was behaving very handsomely, already had his eye on a newly built house in East 39th Street. The neighborhood was thought remote, and the house was built in a ghastly greenish-yellow stone that the younger architects of protest against the brownstone of which the uniform hue coated New York like a cold chocolate sauce. But the plumbing was perfect. Archer would have liked to travel to put off the house in question, but though the Wellands approved of an extended European honeymoon, perhaps even a winter in Egypt, they were firm as to the need of a house for the returning couple. The young man felt that his fate was sealed, and for the rest of his life he would go up every evening between the cast-iron railings of that greenish-yellow doorstep and pass through a Pompeian vestibule into a hall with wainscotting of varnished yellow wood. But beyond that his imagination could not travel. He knew the drawing room above had a bay window, but he could not fancy how May would deal with it. She submitted cheerfully to the purple satin and yellow tuftings of the Welland drawing room to its shambuil tables and gilt vitrines full of modern sacks. He saw no reason to suppose that she would want anything different in her own house, and his only comfort was to reflect that she would probably let him arrange his library as he pleased, which would be, of course, with sincere East Lake furniture and the plain new bookcases without glass doors. The young round bosomed maid came in, drew the curtains, pushed back a log, and said consolingly, Vera, Vera. When she had gone, Archer stood up and began to wonder about, should he wait any longer? His position was becoming rather foolish. Perhaps he had misunderstood Madame Olenska. Perhaps she had not invited him after all. Down the cobblestones of the quiet street came the ring of a stepper's hoofs. They stopped before the house and he caught the opening of a carriage door. Parting the curtains, he looked out into the early dusk. A street lamp faced him and in its light he saw Julius Boeffert's compact English broom drawn by a big rhone and the banker descending from it in helping out Madame Olenska. Boeffert stood in front of the house and said, Hat in hand, saying something which his companion seemed too negative. Then they shook hands and he jumped into his carriage while she mounted the steps. When she entered the room she showed no surprise at seeing Archer there. Surprise seemed the emotion that she was least addicted to. How do you like my funny house? She asked. Then she looked at him with meditative eyes. You've arranged it delightfully, he rejoined, alive to the flatness of the words but imprisoned in the conventional by his consuming desire to be simple and striking. Oh, it's a poor little place. My relations despise it, but at any rate it's less gloomy than the vanderloidens. The words gave him an electric shock, for few were the rebellious spirits who would have dared those privileged to enter it shivered there and spoke of it as handsome. But suddenly he was glad that she had given voice to the general shiver. It's delicious what you've done here, he repeated. I like the little house, she admitted, but I suppose what I like is the blessedness of its being here in my own country and in my own town and then of being alone in it. It's so low that he hardly heard the last phrase, but in his awkwardness he took it up, you like so much to be alone? Yes, as long as my friends keep me from feeling lonely. She sat down near the fire and said, Nastasia will bring the tea presently and signed to him to return to his arm chair, adding, I see you've already chosen your corner. Leaning back she folded her arms behind her head and stripping lids. This is the hour I like best, don't you? A proper sense of dignity caused him to answer, I was afraid you had forgotten the hour. Beaufort must have been very engrossing. She looked amused. Why, have you waited long? Mr. Beaufort took me to see a number of houses, since it seems I'm not to be allowed to stay in this one. She appeared to dismiss both and went on, I've never been in a city where there seems to be such a feeling against living in Des Quartiers excentriques. What does it matter where one lives? I'm told this street is respectable. It's not fashionable. Fashionable? Do you all think so much of that? Why not make one's own fashions? But I suppose I've lived too independently. At any rate, I want to do what you all do. I want to feel cared for and safe. He was touched, as he had been the evening before when she spoke of her need of guidance. That's what your friends want to feel. New York's an awfully safe place, he added with a flash of sarcasm. Yes, isn't it? One feels that, she cried missing the mockery. Being here is like, like being taken on a holiday when one has been a good little girl The analogy was meant well, but did not altogether please him. He did not mind being flippant about New York, but disliked to hear anyone else take the same tone. He wondered if she did not begin to see what a powerful engine it was and how nearly it had crushed her. The Lovell-Mingott's dinner, patched up in extremis out of all sorts of social odds and ends, ought to have taught her the narrowness of her escape, but either she had been all along unaware of having skirted disaster or else she had lost sight of it in the triumph of the van der Leuden evening. Archer inclined to the former theory, he fancied that her New York was still completely undifferentiated and the conjecture, netled him. Last night he said, New York laid itself out for you. The van der Leuden's do nothing but have. No, how kind they are. It was such a nice party. Everyone seems to have such an esteem for them. The terms were hardly adequate. She might have spoken in that way of a tea party at the dear old Miss Lannings. The van der Leuden's, said Archer, feeling himself pompous as he spoke, are the most powerful influence in New York society. Unfortunately, in his own self, they receive very seldom. She unclasped her hands from behind her head and looked at him meditatively. Isn't that perhaps the reason? The reason? For their great influence, that they make themselves so rare. He colored a little, stared at her and suddenly felt the penetration of the remark. At a stroke, he laughed and sacrificed them. Nastasia brought the tea with hand-less Japanese cups and little-covered dishes, placing the tray on a low table. But you'll explain these things to me. You'll tell me all I ought to know. Madame Olenska continued leaning forward to hand him his cup. It's you who are telling me, opening my eyes to things I'd looked at so long that I'd ceased to see them. She detached a small, gold cigarette case from one of her bracelets, held it out to him and took a cigarette herself. On the chimney were long spills for lighting them. Ah, then we can both help each other. But I want help so much more. You must tell me just what to do. It was on the tip of his tongue to reply, don't be seen driving about the streets with Beaufort. She was too deeply drawn into the atmosphere of the room, which was her atmosphere. And to give advice of that sort would have been like telling someone who was bargaining for an atar of roses in Samarkand that one should always be provided with arctics for a New York winter. New York seemed much farther off than Samarkand. And if they were indeed to help each other, she was rendering what might prove the first of their mutual services by making him look as if he were in the room. Viewed thus, as through the wrong end of a telescope, it looked disconcertingly small and distant. But then, from Samarkand, it would. A flame darted from the logs and she bent over the fire, stretching her thin hands so close to it that a faint halo shone about the oval nails. The light touched to russet her braids and made her pale face paler. There are plenty of people to tell you what to do, archer rejoined, obscurely envious of them. Oh, all my aunts and my dear old granny she considered the idea impartially. They're all a little vexed with me for setting up for myself. Poor granny especially. She wanted to keep me with her but I had to be free. He was impressed by this light way of speaking of the formidable Catherine and moved by the thought of what must have given Madame Olenska this thirst for even the loneliest kind of freedom. But the idea of Beaufort gnawed at him. I think I understand how you feel, he said. Still, your family can advise you. Explain the differences. Show you the way. She lifted her thin black eyebrows. Is New York such a labyrinth? I thought it so straight up and down like Fifth Avenue and with all the cross streets numbered. She seemed to guess his faint disapproval of this and added with a rare smile that enchanted her whole face. If you knew how I like it just for that the straight up and downness and the big honest labels on everything. He saw his chance. Everything may be labeled but everybody is not. Perhaps I may simplify too much but you'll warn me if I do. She turned from the fire to look at him. There are only two people here who make me feel as if they understood what I mean and could explain things to me. You and Mr. Beaufort Archer winced at the joining of the names and then with a quick readjustment understood sympathized and pitied so close to the powers of evil she must have lived that she still breathed more freely in their air but since she felt that he understood her also his business would be to make her see Beaufort as he really was all he represented and abhor it he answered gently I understand but just at first don't let go of your old friends' hands I mean the older women your Granny Mingot, Mrs. Welland, Mrs. Vandeloiden they like and admire you they want to help you oh I know, I know but unconditioned that they don't hear anything unpleasant Aunt Welland put it in those very words when I tried does no one want to know the truth here, Mr. Archer the real loneliness is living among all these kind people who only ask one to pretend she lifted her hands to her face and he saw her thin shoulders shaken by a sob Madam Olenska, oh don't Ellen he cried starting up and bending over her he drew down one of her hands clasping and chafing it like a child while he murmured reassuring words but in a moment she freed herself and looked up at him with wet lashes does no one cry here either I suppose there's no need to in heaven she said straightening her loosened braids with a laugh and bending over the tea kettle it was burnt into his consciousness that he had called her Ellen called her so twice and that she had not noticed it far down the inverted telescope he saw the faint white figure of May Welland in New York suddenly Nastasia put her head in to say something in her rich Italian Madam Olenska again, again with a hand at her hair uttered an exclamation of ascent a flashing chia chia and the Duke of St. Austrie entered piloting a tremendous black-wigged and red-plumed lady in overflowing furs my dear Countess I've brought an old friend of mine to see you Mrs. Struthers she wasn't asked to the party last night and she wants to know you the Duke beamed on the group and Madam Olenska advanced with a murmur of welcome towards the queer couple she seemed to have no idea how oddly matched they were or what a liberty the Duke had taken in bringing his companion and to do him justice as Archer perceived the Duke seemed as unaware of it himself of course I want to know you my dear cried Mrs. Struthers in a round rolling voice that matched her bold feathers and her brazen wig I want to know everyone who's young and interesting and charming and the Duke tells me you like music didn't you Duke Europeanist yourself I believe well do you want to hear Sarasate play tomorrow evening at my house you know I've something going on every Sunday evening it's the day when New York doesn't know what to do with itself and so I say to it come and be amused and the Duke thought you'd be tempted by Sarasate you'll find a number of your friends Madam Olenska's face group brilliant with pleasure Mrs. Struthers sank into it delectably of course I shall be too happy to come that's all right my dear and bring your young gentleman with you Mrs. Struthers extended a hail fellow hand to Archer I can't put a name to you but I'm sure I've met you I've met everybody here or in Paris or London aren't you in diplomacy all the diplomat has come to me you'll like music too Duke you must be sure to bring him a circular bow that made him feel as full of spine as a self-conscious schoolboy among careless and unnoticing elders he was not sorry for the denouement of his visit he only wished it had come sooner and spared him a certain waste of emotion as he went out into the wintery night New York again became vast and imminent and May Welland the loveliest woman in it he turned into his florists to send her the daily box of lilies of the valley which to his confusion he found he had forgotten that morning as he wrote a word on his card and waited for an envelope he glanced about the empowered shop and his eye lit on a cluster of yellow roses he had never seen any as sun golden before and his first impulse was to send them to May instead of the lilies to make her there was something too rich too strong in their fiery beauty in a sudden revulsion of mood and almost without knowing what he did he signed to the florist to lay the roses in another long box and slipped his card into a second envelope on which he wrote the name of the Countess Olenska then just as he was turning away he drew the card out again and left the empty envelope on the box they'll go at once he inquired pointing to the roses the florist assured him that they would end of chapter 9 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer visit www.librivox.org the age of innocence a novel by Edith Wharton read for LibriVox by Brenda Dain chapter 10 the next day he persuaded May to escape for a walk in the park after luncheon as was the custom in old fashioned Episcopalian New York she usually accompanied her parents to church on Sunday afternoons but Mrs. Welland condoned her truancy having that very morning won her over to the necessity with time to prepare a hand embroidered trousseau containing the proper number of dozens the day was delectable the bare vaulting of trees along the mall was sealed with lapis lazuli and arched above snow that shone like splintered crystals it was the weather to call out May's radiance and she burned like a young maple in the frost Archer was proud of the glances turned on her and the simple joy of possessorship cleared away his underlying perplexities it's so delicious waking every morning to smell lilies of the valley in one's room she said yesterday they came late I hadn't time in the morning but you're remembering each day to send them makes me love them so much more than if you'd given a standing order in the minute like one's music teacher as I know Gertrude Lefferts did for instance when she and Lawrence were engaged well they would laughed Archer amused at her keenness he looked sideways at her fruit like cheek and felt rich and secure enough to add when I sent your lilies yesterday afternoon I saw some rather glorious yellow roses and packed them off to Madame Olenska was that right? how dear of you anything of that kind delights her it's odd she didn't mention it she lunged with us today spoke of Mr. Bofferts having sent her wonderful orchids and cousin Henry van der Leuden a whole hamper of carnations from Scoitre Cliff she seems so surprised to receive flowers don't people send them in Europe she thinks it's such a pretty custom oh well no wonder mine were overshadowed by Bofferts said Archer irritably then he remembered that he had not put a card with the roses and was vexed at having spoken of them he wanted to say I called on your cousin yesterday but hesitated if Madame Olenska had not spoken of his visit it might seem awkward that he should yet not to do so gave the affair an air of mystery that he disliked to shake off the question he began to talk of their own plans their future and Mrs. Wellen's insistence on a long engagement if you call it long Isabel Chivers and Reggie were engaged for two years Grace and Thorley for nearly a year and a half why aren't we very well off as we are it was the traditional maidenly interrogation and he felt ashamed of himself for finding it singularly childish no doubt she simply echoed her but she was nearing her 22nd birthday and he wondered at what age nice women began to speak for themselves never if we won't let them I suppose he mused and recalled his mad outburst to Sillerton Jackson women ought to be as free as we are it would presently be his task to take the bandage from this young woman's eyes and bid her look forth on the world but how many generations of the women who had gone abandoned, bandaged to the family vault he shivered a little remembering some of the new ideas in his scientific books and the much-sighted instance of the Kentucky cave fish which had ceased to develop eyes because they had no use for them what if when he had bidden Mae Wellen to open hers they could only look out blankly at blankness we might be much better off all together, together we might travel her face lit up that would be lovely she owned she would love to travel but her mother would not understand they're wanting to do things so differently as if the mere differently didn't account for it the wooer insisted Newland you're so original she exalted his heart sank for he saw that he was saying what he expected to say and that she was making the answers that instinct and tradition taught her to make even to the point of calling him original original we're all as like each other as those dolls cut out of the same folded paper we're like patterns stenciled on a wall can't you and I strike out for ourselves Mae he had stopped and faced her in the excitement and her eyes rested on him with a bright unclouded admiration mercy shall we elope she laughed if you would you do love me Newland I'm so happy then why not be happier we can't behave like people in novels though can we why not, why not, why not she looked a little bored by his insistence she knew very well that they couldn't but it was troublesome to have to produce a reason I'm not clever enough to argue with you but that kind of thing is rather vulgar, isn't it she suggested relieved to have hit on a word that would assuredly extinguish the whole subject are you so much afraid then of being vulgar she was evidently staggered by this of course I should hate it and so would you she rejoined a trifle irritably he stood silent beating his stick nervously against his boot-top and feeling that she had indeed found the right way of closing the discussion she went on lightheartedly oh did I tell you that I showed Ellen my ring she thinks it the most beautiful setting she ever saw there's nothing like it in the root of the pay I do love you, Newland for being so artistic the next afternoon as Archer before dinner sat smoking sullenly in his study Janey wandered in on him he had failed to stop at his club on the way up from the office where he exercised the profession of the law in the leisurely manner common to well to do New Yorkers of his class he was out of spirits and slightly out of temper and a haunting horror of doing the same thing every day at the same hour besieged his brain sameness, sameness he muttered the word running through his head like a persecuting tune as he saw the familiar tall-headed figures lounging behind the plate glass and because he usually dropped in at the club at that hour he had gone home instead he knew not only what they were likely to be talking about but the part each one would take in the discussion the duke, of course would be their principal theme though the appearance in Fifth Avenue of a golden-haired lady in a small canary-colored broom with a pair of black cobs for which Beaufort was generally thought responsible would also doubtless and thoroughly gone into such women, as they were called were few in New York those driving their own carriages still fewer and the appearance of Miss Fanny Ring in Fifth Avenue at the fashionable hour had profoundly agitated society only the day before her carriage had passed Mrs. Lovell-Mingott's and the latter had instantly rung the little bell at her elbow and the woman to drive her home what if it had happened to Mrs. van der Leuden people asked each other with a shutter Archer could hear Lawrence Lefferts at that very hour holding forth on the disintegration of society he raised his head irritably when his sister Janey entered then quickly bent over his book Swinburne's Chastelard just out as if he had not seen her she glanced at the writing table opened a volume of the Conte de la Tique made a wry face over the archaic French and sighed what learned things you read well he asked as she hovered Cassandra like before him mothers very angry angry with whom about what Miss Sophie Jackson has just been here she brought word that her brother would come in after dinner he didn't say very much because he forbade her to he wishes to give all the details himself he's with cousin Louise van der Leuden now for heaven's sake my dear girl try a fresh start it would take an omniscient deity to know what you're talking about it's not a time to be profane Newland mother feels badly enough about your not going to church with a groan he plunged back into his book Newland do listen Olenska was at Mrs. Lemuel Struthers party last night she went there with a Duke and Mr. Beaufort at the last clause of this announcement a senseless anger swelled the young man's breast to smother it he laughed well what of it I knew she meant to Janey paled and her eyes began to project you knew she meant to you didn't try to stop her to warn her stop her warn her he laughed again I'm not engaged to be married to the countess Olenska the words had a fantastic sound in his own ears you're marrying into her family oh family family he jeered Newland don't you care about family not a brass farthing nor about what cousin Louisa Vandaloidon will think not the half of one if she thinks such an old maid's rubbish mother is not an old maid said his virgin sister with pinched lips he felt like shouting back yes she is and so are the Vandaloidons and so we all are when it comes to being so much as brushed by the wing tip of reality but he saw her long gentle face puckering into tears and felt ashamed of the useless pain he was inflicting hang countess Olenska don't be a goose Janey I'm not her keeper no but you did ask the wellans to announce your engagement sooner so that we might all back her up and if it hadn't been for that cousin Louisa would never have invited her to the dinner for the duke well what harm was there she was the best looking woman in the room she made the dinner a little less funerial than the usual Vandaloidon banquet you know cousin Henry asked her to please you he persuaded cousin Louisa and now and now they're so upset that they're going back to Scoitercliff tomorrow I think Newland you'd better come down you don't seem to understand how mother feels in the drawing room Newland found his mother she raised a troubled brow from her needlework to ask if she told you yes he tried to keep his tone as measured as her own but I can't take it very seriously not the fact of having offended cousin Louisa and cousin Henry the fact that they can be offended by such a trifle as countess Olenska's going to the house of a woman they consider common consider well who is but who has good music on Sunday evenings when the whole of New York is dying of inannition good music all I know is there was a woman who got up on a table and sang the things they sing at the places you go to in Paris there was smoking and champagne well that kind of thing happens in other places and the world still goes on I don't suppose dear you're really defending the French Sunday I've heard you often enough mother grumble at the English Sunday when we've been in London New York is neither Paris nor London oh no it's not her son groaned you mean I suppose that society here is not as brilliant you're right I dare say but we belong here and the people should respect our ways when they come among us Ellen Olenska especially the kind of life people lead in brilliant societies Newland made no answer and after a moment his mother ventured I was going to put on my bonnet and ask you to take me to see cousin Louisa for a moment before dinner he frowned and she continued I thought you might explain to her what you've just said that society abroad is different that people are not as particular and that Madam Olenska may not have realised or feel about such things it would be you know dear she added with an innocent adroitness in Madam Olenska's interest if you did dearest mother I really don't see how we're concerned in the matter the Duke took Madam Olenska to Mrs Struthers' in fact he brought Mrs Struthers to call on her I was there when they came with anyone the real culprit is under their own roof quarrel Newland did you ever know of cousin Henry quarrelling besides the Duke is his guest and a stranger too strangers don't discriminate how should they Countess Olenska is a New Yorker and should have respected the feelings of New York well then if they must have a victim you have my leave to throw Madam Olenska to them cried her son I don't see myself or you either offering ourselves up to expiate her crimes oh of course you only see the Mingid side his mother answered in the sensitive tone that was her nearest approach to anger the Sad Butler drew back the drawing room porters and announced Mr Henry van der Leuden Mrs Archer dropped her needle and pushed her chair back with an agitated hand to the retreating servant while Janey bent over to straighten her mother's cap Mr van der Leuden's figure loomed on the threshold and Newland Archer went forward to greet his cousin we were just talking about you sir he said Mr van der Leuden seemed overwhelmed by the announcement he drew off his gloves to shake hands with the ladies and smoothed his tall hat shyly while Janey pushed an armchair forward and Archer continued Mrs Archer paled ah charming woman I have just been to see her said Mr van der Leuden complacency restored to his brow he sank into the chair laid his hat and gloves on the floor beside him in the old fashioned way and went on she has a real gift for arranging flowers I had sent her a few carnations from Scoitre Cliff and I was astonished by the way she was arranging them in big bunches as our head gardener does she had scattered them about loosely, here and there I can't say how the Duke had told me he said go and see how cleverly she's arranged her drawing room and she has I should really like to take Louisa to see her if the neighborhood were not so unpleasant a dead silence greeted this unusual kid into which she had nervously tumbled it and Newland leaning against the chimney place and twisting a hummingbird feather screen in his hand saw Janie's gaping countenance lit up by the coming of the second lamp the fact is Mr van der Leuden continued stroking his long grey leg with a bloodless hand weighed down by the Patroon's great signet ring the fact is I dropped in to thank her for the very pretty note she wrote me about my flowers and also but this is between ourselves of course to give her a friendly warning about allowing the Duke to carry her off to parties with him I don't know if you've heard Mrs Archer produced an indulgent smile has the Duke been carrying her off to parties you know what these English grandees are they're all alike they're very fond of our cousin but it's hopeless to expect people who are accustomed to the European courts to trouble themselves about our little Republican distinctions the Duke goes where he's amused Mr van der Leuden paused but no one spoke yes it seems he took her with him last night to Mrs Lemuel Struthers's Sillerton Jackson has just been to us with the foolish story Louisa was rather troubled so I thought the shortest way was to go straight to Countess Olenska and explain by the nearest hint you know how we feel in New York about certain things I felt I might without indelicacy because the evening she dined with us she rather suggested rather let me see that she would be grateful for guidance and she was Mr van der Leuden looked about the room with what would have been self-satisfaction on features less purged of the vulgar passions on his face it became a mild benevolence which Mrs Archer's countenance dutifully reflected how kind you both are dear Henry always Newland will particularly appreciate what you have done because of dear May and his new relations she shot in a monetary glance and said immensely sir but I was sure you'd like Madam Olenska Mr van der Leuden looked at him with extreme gentleness I never asked my house dear Newland he said anyone whom I do not like and so I have just told Sillerton Jackson with a glance at the clock he rose and added but Louisa will be waiting we're dining early and she was moved behind their visitor a silence fell upon the Archer family gracious how romantic at last broke explosively from Janie no one knew exactly what inspired her elliptic comments and her relations had long since given up trying to interpret them Mrs Archer shook her head with a sigh provided it all turns out for the best she said she knows how surely it will not Newland you must stay and see Sillerton Jackson when he comes this evening I really shan't know what to say to him poor mother but he won't come her son laughed stooping to kiss away her frown end of Chapter 10 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer dot LibriVox dot O-R-G The Age of Innocence a novel by Edith Wharton read for LibriVox by Brenda Dain Chapter 11 some two weeks later Newland Archer sitting in abstracted idleness in his private compartment of the office of Letter Blair, Lamson and Low attorneys at law was summoned by the head of the firm the accredited legal advisor of three generations of New York gentility was thrown behind his mahogany desk in evident perplexity as he stroked his close clipped white whiskers and ran his hand through the rumpled gray locks above his jutting brows his disrespectful junior partner thought how much he looked like the family physician annoyed with the patient on the outside my dear sir he always addressed Archer as sir I have sent for you to go into a little matter a matter which for the moment I prefer not to mention to either Mr. Skipworth or Mr. Redwood the gentleman he spoke of were the other senior partners of the firm for as was always the case with legal associations Mr. Letter Blair and Mr. Letter Blair for example was professionally speaking his own grandson he leaned back in his chair with a furrowed brow for family reasons he continued Archer looked up the Mingott family said Mr. Letter Blair with an explanatory smile and bow Mrs. Manson Mingott her granddaughter the Countess Olenska wishes to sue her husband for divorce certain papers have been placed in my hands he paused and drummed on his desk in view of your prospective alliance with the family I should like to consult you to consider the case with you before taking any further steps Archer felt the blood in his temples he had seen the Countess Olenska only once since his visit to her and that at the opera in the Mingott box during this interval she had become a less vivid image receding from his foreground as Mae Welland resumed her rightful place in it he had not heard her divorce spoken of since Janie's first random and had dismissed the tale as unfounded gossip theoretically the idea of a divorce was almost as distasteful to him as to his mother and he was annoyed that Mr. Letter Blair no doubt prompted by old Catherine Mingott should be so evidently planning to draw him into the affair after all there were plenty of Mingott men for such jobs he waited for the senior partner to continue Mr. Letter Blair unlocked a drawer and drew out a packet if you will run your eye over these papers Archer frowned I beg your pardon sir but just because of the prospective relationship I should prefer your consulting Mr. Skipworth or Mr. Redwood Mr. Letter Blair looked surprised and slightly offended it was unusual for a junior to reject such an opening he bowed I respect your scruple sir but in this case I believe true delicacy requires you to do as I ask indeed the suggestion is not mine but Mrs. Manson Mingott's and her son's I have seen a level Mingott and also Mr. Welland they all named you Archer felt his temper rising spent somewhat languidly drifting with events for the last fortnight and letting May's fair looks and radiant nature obliterate the rather importunate pressure of the Mingott claims but this behest of old Mrs. Mingott's roused him to a sense of what the clan thought they had the right to exact from a prospective son-in-law and he chafed at the role her uncles ought to deal with this he said they have the matter has been gone into by the family they are opposed to the Countess's idea but she is firm and insists on a legal opinion the young man was silent he had not opened the packet in his hand does she want to marry again I believe it is suggested but she denies it then will you oblige me Mr. Archer by first through those papers afterward when we have talked the case over I will give you my opinion Archer withdrew reluctantly with the unwelcome documents since their last meeting he had half unconsciously collaborated with events in ridding himself of the burden of Madame Olenska his hour alone with her by the fire-light had drawn them into a momentary intimacy on which the Duke of St. Austria's intrusion with Mrs. Lemuel Struthers and the Countess's joyous greeting of them had rather providentially broken two days later Archer had assisted at the comedy of her reinstatement in the van der Leuden's favour and had said to himself with a touch of tartness that a lady who knew how to thank all powerful elderly gentlemen to such good purpose for a bunch of flowers made either the private consolations or the public championship of a young man of his small compass to look at the matter in this light simplified his own case and surprisingly furbished up all the dim domestic virtues he could not picture May Welland in whatever conceivable emergency hawking about her private difficulties and lavishing her confidences on strange men and she had never seemed to him finer or fairer in the week that followed he had even yielded to her wish for a long engagement since she had found the one disarming answer to his plea for haste you know when it comes to the point your parents have always let you have your way ever since you were a little girl he argued and she had answered with her clearest look yes and that's what makes it so hard to refuse the very last thing they'll ever ask of me as a little girl that was the old New York note that was the kind of answer he would like always to be sure of his wife's making if one had habitually breathed the New York air there were times when anything less crystalline seemed stifling the papers he had retired to read did not tell him much in fact but they plunged him into an atmosphere in which he choked and sputtered they consisted mainly of an exchange of letters between Count Olenski's solicitors and a French legal firm to whom the countess had applied for the settlement of her financial situation there was also a short letter from the count to his wife after reading it Newland Archer Rose jammed the papers back into their envelope and re-entered Mr. Letterblair's office here are the letters sir if you wish I'll see Madame Olenski he said in a constrained voice thank you, thank you Mr. Archer come and dine with me tonight if you're free and we'll go into the matter afterward in case you wish to call on our client tomorrow Newland Archer walked straight home again that afternoon it was a winter evening of transparent clearness with an innocent young moon above the house tops and he wanted to fill his soul's lungs with the pure radiance and not exchange a word with anyone till he and Mr. Letterblair were closeted together after dinner it was impossible to decide otherwise than he had done he must see Madame Olenski himself rather than let her secrets be bared to any other eyes a great wave of compassion had swept away his indifference and impatience she stood before him as an exposed and pitiful figure he saved at all costs from further wounding herself in her mad plunges against fate he remembered what she had told him of Mrs. Wellen's request to be spared whatever was unpleasant in her history and winced at the thought that it was perhaps this attitude of mind which kept the New York air so pure are we only Pharisees after all he wondered puzzled by the efforts to reconcile and to give disgust at human vileness with his equally instinctive pity for human frailty for the first time he perceived how elementary his own principles had always been he passed for a young man who had not been afraid of risks and he knew that his secret love affair with poor, silly, Mrs. Thorley Rushworth had not been too secret to invest him with a becoming air of adventure but Mrs. Rushworth was that kind of woman foolish, vain clandestine by nature and far more attracted by the secrecy and peril of the affair than by such charms and qualities as he possessed the affair in short had been of the kind that most of the young men of his age had been through and emerged from with calm consciences reserved belief in the abysmal distinction between the woman one loved and respected and those one enjoyed and pitied in this view they were said jealously abetted by their mothers aunts and other elderly female relatives all who shared Mrs. Archer's belief that when such things happened it was undoubtedly foolish of the man but somehow always criminal of the woman all the elderly ladies whom Archer knew regarded any woman who loved imprudently as necessarily unscrupulous and designing and mere simple-minded man as powerless in her clutches the only thing to do was to persuade him as early as possible to marry a nice girl and then trust to her to look after him in the complicated old European communities Archer began to guess that love problems might be less simple and less easily classified rich and idle and ornamental societies must produce many more such situations and there might even be one in which a woman naturally sensitive and aloof would yet from the force of circumstances from sheer defenselessness and loneliness be drawn into a tie inexcusable by conventional standards on reaching home to her asking at what hour of the next day she could receive him and dispatched it by a messenger boy who returned presently with the word to the effect that she was going to squatter Cliff the next morning to stay over Sunday with the van der Leudens but that he would find her alone that evening after dinner the note was written on a rather untidy half-sheet without date or address but her hand was firm and free he was amused at the idea of her week-ending in the stately solitude of squatter Cliff but immediately afterward felt that there of all places she would most feel the chill of minds rigorously averted from the unpleasant he was at Mr. Letter Blair's punctually at seven glad of the pretext for excusing himself soon after dinner he had formed his own opinion from the papers entrusted to him and did not especially want to the matter with his senior partner Mr. Letter Blair was a widower and they dined alone copiously and slowly in a dark, shabby room hung with yellowing prints of the death of Chatham and the coronation of Napoleon on the sideboard between fluted Sheraton knife cases stood a decanter of Hope Brion and another of old Landing Port the gift of a client which the wastrel Tom Lanning had sold off a year or two before his mysterious and discreditable death in San Francisco an incident less publicly humiliating to the family than the sale of the seller after a velvety oyster soup came shad and cucumbers then a young broiled turkey with corn fritters followed by a canvas back with current jelly and celery mayonnaise Mr. Letter Blair who lunged on a sandwich and tea deliberately and deeply and insisted on his guests doing the same finally when the closing rights had been accomplished the cloth was removed cigars were lit and Mr. Letter Blair leaning back in his chair and pushing the port westward said spreading his back agreeably to the coal fire behind him the whole family are against a divorce and I think rightly the butcher instantly felt himself on the other side of the argument but why sir if there ever was a case well what's the use she's here he's there the atlantics between them she'll never get back a dollar more of her money than what he's voluntarily returned to her their damned heathen marriage settlements take precious good care of that as things go over there Olenski's acted generously I understand though Mr. Letter Blair continued that she attaches no importance to the money therefore as the family say why not let well enough alone Archer had gone to the house an hour earlier in full agreement with Mr. Letter Blair's view but put into words by this selfish well-fed and supremely indifferent old man it suddenly became the Pharisee voice of a society wholly absorbed the unpleasant I think that's for her to decide hmm have you considered the consequences if she decides for divorce you mean the threat in her husband's letter what weight would that carry it's no more than the vague charge of an angry blackard yes but it might make some unpleasant talk if he really defends the suit unpleasant said Archer explosively Mr. Letter Blair looked at him from under inquiring eyebrows and the young man aware of the uselessness of trying to explain what was in his mind bowed acquiescently while his senior continued divorce is always unpleasant you agree with me Mr. Letter Blair resumed after awaiting silence naturally said Archer well then I may count on you the Mingates may count on you to use your influence against the idea Archer hesitated I can't pledge myself till I've seen the Countess Olenska he said at length Mr. Archer I don't understand you do you want to marry into a family with a scandalous divorce suit hanging over it I don't think that has anything to do with the case Mr. Letter Blair put down his glass of port and fixed on his young partner a cautious and apprehensive gaze Archer understood that he ran the risk of having his mandate withdrawn and for some obscure reason he disliked the prospect now that the job had been thrust on him he did not propose to relinquish it and to guard against the possibility he saw that he must reassure the unimaginative old man who was the legal conscience of the Mingates you may be sure sir that I shan't commit myself to you what I meant was that I'd rather not give an opinion until I've heard what Madam Olenska has to say Mr. Letter Blair nodded approvingly at an excess of caution worthy of the best New York tradition and the young man glancing at his watch pleaded an engagement and took leave end of chapter 11