XXXIII.
It was, as Mrs. Archer smilingly said to Mrs. Welland, a great eventfor a young couple to give their first big dinner.
The Newland Archers, since they had set up their household, hadreceived a good deal of company in an informal way. Archer was fond ofhaving three or four friends to dine, and May welcomed them with thebeaming readiness of which her mother had set her the example inconjugal affairs. Her husband questioned whether, if left to herself,she would ever have asked any one to the house; but he had long givenup trying to disengage her real self from the shape into whichtradition and training had moulded her. It was expected that well-offyoung couples in New York should do a good deal of informalentertaining, and a Welland married to an Archer was doubly pledged tothe tradition.
But a big dinner, with a hired chef and two borrowed footmen, withRoman punch, roses from Henderson's, and menus on gilt-edged cards, wasa different affair, and not to be lightly undertaken. As Mrs. Archerremarked, the Roman punch made all the difference; not in itself but byits manifold implications--since it signified either canvas-backs orterrapin, two soups, a hot and a cold sweet, full decolletage withshort sleeves, and guests of a proportionate importance.
It was always an interesting occasion when a young pair launched theirfirst invitations in the third person, and their summons was seldomrefused even by the seasoned and sought-after. Still, it wasadmittedly a triumph that the van der Luydens, at May's request, shouldhave stayed over in order to be present at her farewell dinner for theCountess Olenska.
The two mothers-in-law sat in May's drawing-room on the afternoon ofthe great day, Mrs. Archer writing out the menus on Tiffany's thickestgilt-edged bristol, while Mrs. Welland superintended the placing of thepalms and standard lamps.
Archer, arriving late from his office, found them still there. Mrs.Archer had turned her attention to the name-cards for the table, andMrs. Welland was considering the effect of bringing forward the largegilt sofa, so that another corner might be created between the pianoand the window.
May, they told him, was in the dining-room inspecting the mound ofJacqueminot roses and maidenhair in the centre of the long table, andthe placing of the Maillard bonbons in openwork silver baskets betweenthe candelabra. On the piano stood a large basket of orchids which Mr.van der Luyden had had sent from Skuytercliff. Everything was, inshort, as it should be on the approach of so considerable an event.
Mrs. Archer ran thoughtfully over the list, checking off each name withher sharp gold pen.
Henry van der Luyden--Louisa--the Lovell Mingotts--the ReggieChiverses--Lawrence Lefferts and Gertrude--(yes, I suppose May wasright to have them)--the Selfridge Merrys, Sillerton Jackson, VanNewland and his wife. (How time passes! It seems only yesterday thathe was your best man, Newland)--and Countess Olenska--yes, I thinkthat's all....
Mrs. Welland surveyed her son-in-law affectionately. No one can say,Newland, that you and May are not giving Ellen a handsome send-off.
Ah, well, said Mrs. Archer, I understand May's wanting her cousin totell people abroad that we're not quite barbarians.
I'm sure Ellen will appreciate it. She was to arrive this morning, Ibelieve. It will make a most charming last impression. The eveningbefore sailing is usually so dreary, Mrs. Welland cheerfully continued.
Archer turned toward the door, and his mother-in-law called to him:Do go in and have a peep at the table. And don't let May tire herselftoo much. But he affected not to hear, and sprang up the stairs tohis library. The room looked at him like an alien countenance composedinto a polite grimace; and he perceived that it had been ruthlesslytidied, and prepared, by a judicious distribution of ash-trays andcedar-wood boxes, for the gentlemen to smoke in.
Ah, well, he thought, it's not for long-- and he went on to hisdressing-room.
Ten days had passed since Madame Olenska's departure from New York.During those ten days Archer had had no sign from her but that conveyedby the return of a key wrapped in tissue paper, and sent to his officein a sealed envelope addressed in her hand. This retort to his lastappeal might have been interpreted as a classic move in a familiargame; but the young man chose to give it a different meaning. She wasstill fighting against her fate; but she was going to Europe, and shewas not returning to her husband. Nothing, therefore, was to preventhis following her; and once he had taken the irrevocable step, and hadproved to her that it was irrevocable, he believed she would not sendhim away.
This confidence in the future had steadied him to play his part in thepresent. It had kept him from writing to her, or betraying, by anysign or act, his misery and mortification. It seemed to him that inthe deadly silent game between them the trumps were still in his hands;and he waited.
There had been, nevertheless, moments sufficiently difficult to pass;as when Mr. Letterblair, the day after Madame Olenska's departure, hadsent for him to go over the details of the trust which Mrs. MansonMingott wished to create for her granddaughter. For a couple of hoursArcher had examined the terms of the deed with his senior, all thewhile obscurely feeling that if he had been consulted it was for somereason other than the obvious one of his cousinship; and that the closeof the conference would reveal it.
Well, the lady can't deny that it's a handsome arrangement, Mr.Letterblair had summed up, after mumbling over a summary of thesettlement. In fact I'm bound to say she's been treated prettyhandsomely all round.
All round? Archer echoed with a touch of derision. Do you refer toher husband's proposal to give her back her own money?
Mr. Letterblair's bushy eyebrows went up a fraction of an inch. Mydear sir, the law's the law; and your wife's cousin was married underthe French law. It's to be presumed she knew what that meant.
Even if she did, what happened subsequently--. But Archer paused.Mr. Letterblair had laid his pen-handle against his big corrugatednose, and was looking down it with the expression assumed by virtuouselderly gentlemen when they wish their youngers to understand thatvirtue is not synonymous with ignorance.
My dear sir, I've no wish to extenuate the Count's transgressions;but--but on the other side ... I wouldn't put my hand in the fire ...well, that there hadn't been tit for tat ... with the youngchampion.... Mr. Letterblair unlocked a drawer and pushed a foldedpaper toward Archer. This report, the result of discreet enquiries... And then, as Archer made no effort to glance at the paper or torepudiate the suggestion, the lawyer somewhat flatly continued: Idon't say it's conclusive, you observe; far from it. But straws show... and on the whole it's eminently satisfactory for all parties thatthis dignified solution has been reached.
Oh, eminently, Archer assented, pushing back the paper.
A day or two later, on responding to a summons from Mrs. MansonMingott, his soul had been more deeply tried.
He had found the old lady depressed and querulous.
You know she's deserted me? she began at once; and without waitingfor his reply: Oh, don't ask me why! She gave so many reasons thatI've forgotten them all. My private belief is that she couldn't facethe boredom. At any rate that's what Augusta and my daughters-in-lawthink. And I don't know that I altogether blame her. Olenski's afinished scoundrel; but life with him must have been a good deal gayerthan it is in Fifth Avenue. Not that the family would admit that: theythink Fifth Avenue is Heaven with the rue de la Paix thrown in. Andpoor Ellen, of course, has no idea of going back to her husband. Sheheld out as firmly as ever against that. So she's to settle down inParis with that fool Medora.... Well, Paris is Paris; and you can keepa carriage there on next to nothing. But she was as gay as a bird, andI shall miss her. Two tears, the parched tears of the old, rolled downher puffy cheeks and vanished in the abysses of her bosom.
All I ask is, she concluded, that they shouldn't bother me any more.I must really be allowed to digest my gruel.... And she twinkled alittle wistfully at Archer.
It was that evening, on his return home, that May announced herintention of giving a farewell dinner to her cousin. Madame Olenska'sname had not been pronounced between them since the night of her flightto Washington; and Archer looked at his wife with surprise.
A dinner--why? he interrogated.
Her colour rose. But you like Ellen--I thought you'd be pleased.
It's awfully nice--your putting it in that way. But I really don'tsee--
I mean to do it, Newland, she said, quietly rising and going to herdesk. Here are the invitations all written. Mother helped me--sheagrees that we ought to. She paused, embarrassed and yet smiling, andArcher suddenly saw before him the embodied image of the Family.
Oh, all right, he said, staring with unseeing eyes at the list ofguests that she had put in his hand.
When he entered the drawing-room before dinner May was stooping overthe fire and trying to coax the logs to burn in their unaccustomedsetting of immaculate tiles.
The tall lamps were all lit, and Mr. van der Luyden's orchids had beenconspicuously disposed in various receptacles of modern porcelain andknobby silver. Mrs. Newland Archer's drawing-room was generallythought a great success. A gilt bamboo jardiniere, in which theprimulas and cinerarias were punctually renewed, blocked the access tothe bay window (where the old-fashioned would have preferred a bronzereduction of the Venus of Milo); the sofas and arm-chairs of palebrocade were cleverly grouped about little plush tables densely coveredwith silver toys, porcelain animals and efflorescent photograph frames;and tall rosy-shaded lamps shot up like tropical flowers among thepalms.
I don't think Ellen has ever seen this room lighted up, said May,rising flushed from her struggle, and sending about her a glance ofpardonable pride. The brass tongs which she had propped against theside of the chimney fell with a crash that drowned her husband'sanswer; and before he could restore them Mr. and Mrs. van der Luydenwere announced.
The other guests quickly followed, for it was known that the van derLuydens liked to dine punctually. The room was nearly full, and Archerwas engaged in showing to Mrs. Selfridge Merry a small highly-varnishedVerbeckhoven Study of Sheep, which Mr. Welland had given May forChristmas, when he found Madame Olenska at his side.
She was excessively pale, and her pallor made her dark hair seem denserand heavier than ever. Perhaps that, or the fact that she had woundseveral rows of amber beads about her neck, reminded him suddenly ofthe little Ellen Mingott he had danced with at children's parties, whenMedora Manson had first brought her to New York.
The amber beads were trying to her complexion, or her dress was perhapsunbecoming: her face looked lustreless and almost ugly, and he hadnever loved it as he did at that minute. Their hands met, and hethought he heard her say: Yes, we're sailing tomorrow in theRussia--; then there was an unmeaning noise of opening doors, andafter an interval May's voice: Newland! Dinner's been announced.Won't you please take Ellen in?
Madame Olenska put her hand on his arm, and he noticed that the handwas ungloved, and remembered how he had kept his eyes fixed on it theevening that he had sat with her in the little Twenty-third Streetdrawing-room. All the beauty that had forsaken her face seemed to havetaken refuge in the long pale fingers and faintly dimpled knuckles onhis sleeve, and he said to himself: If it were only to see her handagain I should have to follow her--.
It was only at an entertainment ostensibly offered to a foreignvisitor that Mrs. van der Luyden could suffer the diminution of beingplaced on her host's left. The fact of Madame Olenska's foreignnesscould hardly have been more adroitly emphasised than by this farewelltribute; and Mrs. van der Luyden accepted her displacement with anaffability which left no doubt as to her approval. There were certainthings that had to be done, and if done at all, done handsomely andthoroughly; and one of these, in the old New York code, was the tribalrally around a kinswoman about to be eliminated from the tribe. Therewas nothing on earth that the Wellands and Mingotts would not have doneto proclaim their unalterable affection for the Countess Olenska nowthat her passage for Europe was engaged; and Archer, at the head of histable, sat marvelling at the silent untiring activity with which herpopularity had been retrieved, grievances against her silenced, herpast countenanced, and her present irradiated by the family approval.Mrs. van der Luyden shone on her with the dim benevolence which was hernearest approach to cordiality, and Mr. van der Luyden, from his seatat May's right, cast down the table glances plainly intended to justifyall the carnations he had sent from Skuytercliff.
Archer, who seemed to be assisting at the scene in a state of oddimponderability, as if he floated somewhere between chandelier andceiling, wondered at nothing so much as his own share in theproceedings. As his glance travelled from one placid well-fed face toanother he saw all the harmless-looking people engaged upon May'scanvas-backs as a band of dumb conspirators, and himself and the palewoman on his right as the centre of their conspiracy. And then it cameover him, in a vast flash made up of many broken gleams, that to all ofthem he and Madame Olenska were lovers, lovers in the extreme sensepeculiar to foreign vocabularies. He guessed himself to have been,for months, the centre of countless silently observing eyes andpatiently listening ears; he understood that, by means as yet unknownto him, the separation between himself and the partner of his guilt hadbeen achieved, and that now the whole tribe had rallied about his wifeon the tacit assumption that nobody knew anything, or had ever imaginedanything, and that the occasion of the entertainment was simply MayArcher's natural desire to take an affectionate leave of her friend andcousin.
It was the old New York way of taking life without effusion of blood:the way of people who dreaded scandal more than disease, who placeddecency above courage, and who considered that nothing was moreill-bred than scenes, except the behaviour of those who gave rise tothem.
As these thoughts succeeded each other in his mind Archer felt like aprisoner in the centre of an armed camp. He looked about the table,and guessed at the inexorableness of his captors from the tone inwhich, over the asparagus from Florida, they were dealing with Beaufortand his wife. It's to show me, he thought, what would happen toME-- and a deathly sense of the superiority of implication and analogyover direct action, and of silence over rash words, closed in on himlike the doors of the family vault.
He laughed, and met Mrs. van der Luyden's startled eyes.
You think it laughable? she said with a pinched smile. Of coursepoor Regina's idea of remaining in New York has its ridiculous side, Isuppose; and Archer muttered: Of course.
At this point, he became conscious that Madame Olenska's otherneighbour had been engaged for some time with the lady on his right.At the same moment he saw that May, serenely enthroned between Mr. vander Luyden and Mr. Selfridge Merry, had cast a quick glance down thetable. It was evident that the host and the lady on his right couldnot sit through the whole meal in silence. He turned to MadameOlenska, and her pale smile met him. Oh, do let's see it through, itseemed to say.
Did you find the journey tiring? he asked in a voice that surprisedhim by its naturalness; and she answered that, on the contrary, she hadseldom travelled with fewer discomforts.
Except, you know, the dreadful heat in the train, she added; and heremarked that she would not suffer from that particular hardship in thecountry she was going to.
I never, he declared with intensity, was more nearly frozen thanonce, in April, in the train between Calais and Paris.
She said she did not wonder, but remarked that, after all, one couldalways carry an extra rug, and that every form of travel had itshardships; to which he abruptly returned that he thought them all of noaccount compared with the blessedness of getting away. She changedcolour, and he added, his voice suddenly rising in pitch: I mean todo a lot of travelling myself before long. A tremor crossed her face,and leaning over to Reggie Chivers, he cried out: I say, Reggie, whatdo you say to a trip round the world: now, next month, I mean? I'mgame if you are-- at which Mrs. Reggie piped up that she could notthink of letting Reggie go till after the Martha Washington Ball shewas getting up for the Blind Asylum in Easter week; and her husbandplacidly observed that by that time he would have to be practising forthe International Polo match.
But Mr. Selfridge Merry had caught the phrase round the world, andhaving once circled the globe in his steam-yacht, he seized theopportunity to send down the table several striking items concerningthe shallowness of the Mediterranean ports. Though, after all, headded, it didn't matter; for when you'd seen Athens and Smyrna andConstantinople, what else was there? And Mrs. Merry said she couldnever be too grateful to Dr. Bencomb for having made them promise notto go to Naples on account of the fever.
But you must have three weeks to do India properly, her husbandconceded, anxious to have it understood that he was no frivolousglobe-trotter.
And at this point the ladies went up to the drawing-room.
In the library, in spite of weightier presences, Lawrence Leffertspredominated.
The talk, as usual, had veered around to the Beauforts, and even Mr.van der Luyden and Mr. Selfridge Merry, installed in the honoraryarm-chairs tacitly reserved for them, paused to listen to the youngerman's philippic.
Never had Lefferts so abounded in the sentiments that adorn Christianmanhood and exalt the sanctity of the home. Indignation lent him ascathing eloquence, and it was clear that if others had followed hisexample, and acted as he talked, society would never have been weakenough to receive a foreign upstart like Beaufort--no, sir, not even ifhe'd married a van der Luyden or a Lanning instead of a Dallas. Andwhat chance would there have been, Lefferts wrathfully questioned, ofhis marrying into such a family as the Dallases, if he had not alreadywormed his way into certain houses, as people like Mrs. LemuelStruthers had managed to worm theirs in his wake? If society chose toopen its doors to vulgar women the harm was not great, though the gainwas doubtful; but once it got in the way of tolerating men of obscureorigin and tainted wealth the end was total disintegration--and at nodistant date.
If things go on at this pace, Lefferts thundered, looking like ayoung prophet dressed by Poole, and who had not yet been stoned, weshall see our children fighting for invitations to swindlers' houses,and marrying Beaufort's bastards.
Oh, I say--draw it mild! Reggie Chivers and young Newland protested,while Mr. Selfridge Merry looked genuinely alarmed, and an expressionof pain and disgust settled on Mr. van der Luyden's sensitive face.
Has he got any? cried Mr. Sillerton Jackson, pricking up his ears;and while Lefferts tried to turn the question with a laugh, the oldgentleman twittered into Archer's ear: Queer, those fellows who arealways wanting to set things right. The people who have the worstcooks are always telling you they're poisoned when they dine out. ButI hear there are pressing reasons for our friend Lawrence'sdiatribe:--typewriter this time, I understand....
The talk swept past Archer like some senseless river running andrunning because it did not know enough to stop. He saw, on the facesabout him, expressions of interest, amusement and even mirth. Helistened to the younger men's laughter, and to the praise of the ArcherMadeira, which Mr. van der Luyden and Mr. Merry were thoughtfullycelebrating. Through it all he was dimly aware of a general attitudeof friendliness toward himself, as if the guard of the prisoner he felthimself to be were trying to soften his captivity; and the perceptionincreased his passionate determination to be free.
In the drawing-room, where they presently joined the ladies, he metMay's triumphant eyes, and read in them the conviction that everythinghad gone off beautifully. She rose from Madame Olenska's side, andimmediately Mrs. van der Luyden beckoned the latter to a seat on thegilt sofa where she throned. Mrs. Selfridge Merry bore across the roomto join them, and it became clear to Archer that here also a conspiracyof rehabilitation and obliteration was going on. The silentorganisation which held his little world together was determined to putitself on record as never for a moment having questioned the proprietyof Madame Olenska's conduct, or the completeness of Archer's domesticfelicity. All these amiable and inexorable persons were resolutelyengaged in pretending to each other that they had never heard of,suspected, or even conceived possible, the least hint to the contrary;and from this tissue of elaborate mutual dissimulation Archer once moredisengaged the fact that New York believed him to be Madame Olenska'slover. He caught the glitter of victory in his wife's eyes, and forthe first time understood that she shared the belief. The discoveryroused a laughter of inner devils that reverberated through all hisefforts to discuss the Martha Washington ball with Mrs. Reggie Chiversand little Mrs. Newland; and so the evening swept on, running andrunning like a senseless river that did not know how to stop.
At length he saw that Madame Olenska had risen and was saying good-bye.He understood that in a moment she would be gone, and tried to rememberwhat he had said to her at dinner; but he could not recall a singleword they had exchanged.
She went up to May, the rest of the company making a circle about heras she advanced. The two young women clasped hands; then May bentforward and kissed her cousin.
Certainly our hostess is much the handsomer of the two, Archer heardReggie Chivers say in an undertone to young Mrs. Newland; and heremembered Beaufort's coarse sneer at May's ineffectual beauty.
A moment later he was in the hall, putting Madame Olenska's cloak abouther shoulders.
Through all his confusion of mind he had held fast to the resolve tosay nothing that might startle or disturb her. Convinced that no powercould now turn him from his purpose he had found strength to let eventsshape themselves as they would. But as he followed Madame Olenska intothe hall he thought with a sudden hunger of being for a moment alonewith her at the door of her carriage.
Is your carriage here? he asked; and at that moment Mrs. van derLuyden, who was being majestically inserted into her sables, saidgently: We are driving dear Ellen home.
Archer's heart gave a jerk, and Madame Olenska, clasping her cloak andfan with one hand, held out the other to him. Good-bye, she said.
Good-bye--but I shall see you soon in Paris, he answered aloud--itseemed to him that he had shouted it.
Oh, she murmured, if you and May could come--!
Mr. van der Luyden advanced to give her his arm, and Archer turned toMrs. van der Luyden. For a moment, in the billowy darkness inside thebig landau, he caught the dim oval of a face, eyes shiningsteadily--and she was gone.
As he went up the steps he crossed Lawrence Lefferts coming down withhis wife. Lefferts caught his host by the sleeve, drawing back to letGertrude pass.
I say, old chap: do you mind just letting it be understood that I'mdining with you at the club tomorrow night? Thanks so much, you oldbrick! Good-night.
It DID go off beautifully, didn't it? May questioned from thethreshold of the library.
Archer roused himself with a start. As soon as the last carriage haddriven away, he had come up to the library and shut himself in, withthe hope that his wife, who still lingered below, would go straight toher room. But there she stood, pale and drawn, yet radiating thefactitious energy of one who has passed beyond fatigue.
May I come and talk it over? she asked.
Of course, if you like. But you must be awfully sleepy--
No, I'm not sleepy. I should like to sit with you a little.
Very well, he said, pushing her chair near the fire.
She sat down and he resumed his seat; but neither spoke for a longtime. At length Archer began abruptly: Since you're not tired, andwant to talk, there's something I must tell you. I tried to the othernight--.
She looked at him quickly. Yes, dear. Something about yourself?
About myself. You say you're not tired: well, I am. Horribly tired...
In an instant she was all tender anxiety. Oh, I've seen it coming on,Newland! You've been so wickedly overworked--
Perhaps it's that. Anyhow, I want to make a break--
A break? To give up the law?
To go away, at any rate--at once. On a long trip, ever so faroff--away from everything--
He paused, conscious that he had failed in his attempt to speak withthe indifference of a man who longs for a change, and is yet too wearyto welcome it. Do what he would, the chord of eagerness vibrated.Away from everything-- he repeated.
Ever so far? Where, for instance? she asked.
Oh, I don't know. India--or Japan.
She stood up, and as he sat with bent head, his chin propped on hishands, he felt her warmly and fragrantly hovering over him.
As far as that? But I'm afraid you can't, dear ... she said in anunsteady voice. Not unless you'll take me with you. And then, as hewas silent, she went on, in tones so clear and evenly-pitched that eachseparate syllable tapped like a little hammer on his brain: That is,if the doctors will let me go ... but I'm afraid they won't. For yousee, Newland, I've been sure since this morning of something I've beenso longing and hoping for--
He looked up at her with a sick stare, and she sank down, all dew androses, and hid her face against his knee.
Oh, my dear, he said, holding her to him while his cold hand strokedher hair.
There was a long pause, which the inner devils filled with stridentlaughter; then May freed herself from his arms and stood up.
You didn't guess--?
Yes--I; no. That is, of course I hoped--
They looked at each other for an instant and again fell silent; then,turning his eyes from hers, he asked abruptly: Have you told any oneelse?
Only Mamma and your mother. She paused, and then added hurriedly,the blood flushing up to her forehead: That is--and Ellen. You knowI told you we'd had a long talk one afternoon--and how dear she was tome.
Ah-- said Archer, his heart stopping.
He felt that his wife was watching him intently. Did you MIND mytelling her first, Newland?
Mind? Why should I? He made a last effort to collect himself. Butthat was a fortnight ago, wasn't it? I thought you said you weren'tsure till today.
Her colour burned deeper, but she held his gaze. No; I wasn't surethen--but I told her I was. And you see I was right! she exclaimed,her blue eyes wet with victory.